Alfonso the Ring: Part II
by RiseAgainPhoenix
Summary: Relive the story, the epic, the adventure, and the romance...through the eyes of the Ring! Lord of the Rings, told as it should be: by the One Ring himself. Rated for very coarse language and minor slash. Last chapter is UP!
1. The Walk to Mordor

A/N: I'm baaaaaaaack!!! Yes indeedy, I'm back, as promised, with the second volume of our dear Ring's excellent adventures. I'd like to take this time to welcome any new readers I may have attracted. This is part two of an on-going epic, best understood if part one has been read. Part one, aptly named "Alfonso the Ring," can be found on my author page. I highly recommend that you go read it (if you haven't already), but if you really really reeeeeeally don't want to, there is a quick recap of the first part right after my author's notes. For my returning readers, a big I LOVE YOU!!! I'm so glad that you're still interested in Al. I love you. ::nods::  
  
Quick Recap: Long ago, Sauron made a ring, brought it to life, and named him Alfonso. Sauron then took over the world. The simple, uneducated folk connected the dots and decided that Alfonso must be the source of Sauron's power---trouble was, the ring had nothing to do with it. So for thousands of years, people continued to think that Alfonso had evil powers, when in reality he did not. Fast-forward a few millennia. Frodo and co. set out to destroy the perfectly innocent Al, and yes, he is pissed. The only person who knows he is not evil is Gandalf, but Gandalf is too busy getting killed by a Balrog to help him out. Al eventually convinces Frodo that he doesn't possess evil powers, but by then they've already sailed to Mordor. Frodo tells him not to worry, the hobbit will think of a plan before they reach Mt. Doom. Al is not altogether comforted. And it is here, as Sam is plotting to kill the Ring and Frodo is trying to convince him otherwise, as Legolas and Aragorn are running around the rolling hillsides hunting orcs, as Gimli is trailing unathletically behind them, that the narrative ended.  
  
Disclaimers: Okay, look, after a prologue and thirty chapters, you really should know that the LotR universe does not belong to me. If you still think I own, am affiliated with, receive money from, or am otherwise acknowledged by the Tolkein estate, kindly go to a quiet corner and shoot yourself. Rid us of your stupidity. Thank you.  
  
Chapter 1: The Walk to Mordor - - -  
  
I spy with my little eye, something...gray.  
  
"A rock?"  
  
Yes! Good job! Okay, another one. This one's tougher. Let's see. I spy with my little eye...something gray.  
  
Frodo sighed wearily. "Another rock?"  
  
Damn, you're good! Okay, betcha can't get this one---  
  
"Ring. Please." Frodo passed a hand over his face, paused to rub at his temples, then sat down heavily.  
  
Sam was at his side instantly. "Mr. Frodo, the Ring has been bothering you, hasn't it? An evil burden to bear," he said gravely, shooting me a snide look. "Evil, evil Ring. It pains my heart to see you suffer so, Mr. Frodo. Here, let me hug you and make it all better.  
  
Frodo quickly brushed him off. "That's quite unnecessary, Sam, but thank you."  
  
The three of us had been walking for some time. The journey was excruciating and draining. I blame Sam entirely. From the second he got into the boat, he had been goading me, trying to turn Frodo against me, doing everything he could to make sure that I would get tossed into a fiery death for good. He had also been coming onto Frodo. A lot. Like, a =lot=. A disturbingly large portion of his waking hours was spent thinking up ways to touch Frodo. And god knows what he spends his sleeping hours dreaming about...::shudder::  
  
I took a look around the vast, desolate stretch of rocks and more rocks. There was a high possibility that I was going to die in the near future, and =this= is how I'm spending my last days??? Wandering around the most depressing place on the planet with Mr. Angst-Boy and his sidekick The Amazing Talking Fucktard?!?! Christ.  
  
To make my life even better, Sam turned around and announced, "I think we're lost, Mr. Frodo."  
  
Wait, 'lost'? How the hell can we possibly be lost?! See that big mountain? All we have to do is walk towards it. Point A to point B. Straight line. Simple. There's no way in hell we can miss the big mountain. All we gotta do is move forwards. That can't be too difficult, even for you.  
  
We walked some more, and then a thought occurred to me. You know what? If you dickheads want to be lost, we can be lost. I don't mind. In fact, it'd be perfectly okay with me if we never reach Mt. Doom. We can be as lost as you want.  
  
"Never worry, Mr. Frodo. We're not lost. I'll lead us right to that mountain, sure and true." Sam trudged determinedly ahead, shoulders squared and jaw set.  
  
Three hours later, Frodo coughed politely. "Sam? Perhaps I'm mistaken, but these rocks look awfully familiar."  
  
Of course they do. We've passed them before. Several times.  
  
"We're walking in circles," Frodo stated flatly.  
  
See, I knew we shouldn't have let Sam take the lead. He has to be the only idiot on this Earth capable of taking an entirely simple straight line and confusing it with a circle.  
  
Sam attempted to divert attention from his stupidity by pointing out a random fact. "Do you smell that horrid stink, Mr. Frodo? I warrant there's a nasty bog nearby."  
  
I warrant there's a nasty fat hobbit who hasn't bathed for weeks nearby.  
  
Before a nasty fight could break out about who was nastier, Frodo piped up.  
  
"We're not alone."  
  
Oooookay. Um, thanks for that bit of info, just out of the blue there. It's very deep and philosophical. 'No man is an island,' and all that. I'm not sure why we're getting into metaphysics when we've got so many other problems at hand here, but if---  
  
"No! I mean literally! We're being followed."  
  
Who in the name of hell would be stupid enough to follow us in this godforsaken place? Scratch that...who in the name of hell would be stupid enough to follow =us=, anywhere??? =I= wouldn't follow us if I had a choice! Why would anyone do it willingly?  
  
"I don't know," Frodo replied, "but I am deeply troubled by this. It can only lead to no good."  
  
Hey, leave the paranoia to Legolas, okay?  
  
"I think Mr. Frodo is right to be cautious," Sam said. Of course you would, you ingratiating rapist. "In fact, I have a plan."  
  
Oh lord preserve us, the fucktard has a plan.  
  
Unfortunately, Frodo was quite taken with Sam's plan, which involved pretending to be asleep, luring our stalker closer, and then pouncing on him. The second the sun set, the hobbits put the plan into action. Frodo warned me to keep my mouth shut, and then smacked me when I pointed out that I technically have no mouth to open. Sam smirked, certain that he was winning Frodo over. But then Frodo made him sleep in his own sleeping bag, so there.  
  
So we laid there, with nothing but the howling wind to keep us company. Before long, we heard the scuffling of someone clambering around on the rocks directly above us. A strangely familiar voice whispered something I couldn't quite catch. I snuck a quick look upwards.  
  
Fuck.  
  
It was him.  
  
"My precioussssssss!!! Yessss...we've found you at last, my darling. Destiny has brought us together, because we were meant to be! You can't deny us, precioussssss...you lovesss us!"  
  
The second Gollum got close enough, Sam and Frodo jumped up and grabbed him by his wrists. Gollum shrieked, then realized that I was just in his reach. He pounced.  
  
Aaaaarrrggghhh, no! Keep your filthy hands away from me!!! Back! Back! I told you, it's over! Get the fuck over it! Why don't you find a nice female mutated swamp creature to marry, and leave the fuck alone?! Go on! Go!  
  
"Mr. Frodo! Get your hands off him, you disgusting beast!"  
  
"Sam, get your hands off of my crotch!"  
  
"It was the creature, I swear!"  
  
After a good fifteen minutes of wrestling, Frodo got me away from Gollum, and Gollum got Sam in a chokehold. A very nice, professional-quality chokehold, too. Frodo let him strangle Sam for a few seconds, but then pulled out his sword.  
  
"You have three seconds to let go of him until I bury this blade into your neck," Frodo said, with a convincing little jab.  
  
Gollum quickly obeyed. And then burst out crying.  
  
"It'sssss not fair!!!!! Just because we is ugly, and youses aren't, my preciousssssss won't love us!!! It loves you!!! It belongs to no one but usss! You've ssstolen the one thing my heart desires, the one we were meant to marry! We were supposed to be together forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever! We were going to have babiesesssss, and a house with a white picket fence and a dog in the front yard! My precioussssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
"Um. Ring? Do you have something you'd like to tell us?" Frodo asked, lowering his sword.  
  
Frodo. Samwise. Meet Gollum, my ex-boyfriend.  
  
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I'm keeping the first chapter fairly short. The next one will most likely be longer, and I'll try really hard to not take the usual two to three weeks to update. Really! Now go review. 


	2. The Power of RingVision

A/N: Hey, look! An update =before= several weeks have gone by! Oh, I'm so proud of me. Oodles of thanks to those who read and especially to those who reviewed. Starting a part two is scary! You never know if you're gonna lose people along the way. I'm glad you're still here---I should've had more faith in you, of course, but authors are insecure like that. A few of you commented on Al's RingVision, and asked whether I'll be using them to cover the other characters in the story. But of course! That's why I gave him that power in the first place. I've also decided I quite like that name, "RingVision". It's cute. Cookies for LegosGrl, who first came up with it.  
  
Disclaimers: I don't own any hobbits. This is fictional. ...I hope.  
  
Chapter 2: The Power of RingVision - - -  
  
"Your boyfriend." Frodo raised an eyebrow.  
  
Actually, my =ex= boyfriend. Try and pay attention, will you?  
  
"Right." He eyed the writhing mass of gray skin, balding head, and wailing mouth full of rotting teeth. "Desperate, were we?"  
  
Actually, yes, I was, okay?! I was in an underground cave for a hundred years with nobody else to talk to. I have =needs=! Needs that I can't satisfy myself, because I don't have =hands=. Besides, it was pitch black in the aforementioned underground cave. You won't believe how much less hideous he looks when there's no light. I broke up with him ages ago, anyway. He turned out to be a bit of an obsessive nutcase, in case you hadn't noticed.  
  
"Mm-hmm. Well. The question is, what shall we do with him now? He has clearly shown that he is quite ready to kill to get you back, so we cannot just let him loose."  
  
"I know what to do," Sam said, reaching down his trousers.  
  
Oh, ew. "Sam, now is not the time!" Frodo admonished, sounding scandalized.  
  
Sam ignored us and fiddled around inside his pants some more, before pulling out his hands triumphantly. "Aha!" He was holding the drawstring of his pants. "We can tie him up with this!"  
  
There were no other suggestions, so for lack of anything else to do, we did. Frodo took Sam's drawstring (with a faint look of disgust) and quickly tied Gollum to a tree. "We will leave him there until sunrise," he decided. "We shall need our rest to face the next day. Let us ignore him and try to get back to sleep. We shan't deal with him until tomorrow"  
  
Excellent plan, but easier said than done. Sam, of course, went back to sleep as though nothing had happened, but Frodo and I lay awake. Gollum made a racket, bitching and complaining one minute, screaming the next, professing his undying love for me over and over. It would have been almost flattering, if it weren't so obsessive and neurotic and annoying and pathetic and scary. His various bemoanings kept us awake for most of the night. Moments after I managed to fall asleep, daylight came. Frodo dragged us up with a yawn.  
  
The three of us stood staring at the still-cursing Gollum. Silence. "So," Sam cleared his throat, "what shall we do now?"  
  
There were no answers forthcoming.  
  
Oh, hobbits. You lightweights. Let me handle this in the smooth and professional manner that only a being of an intelligence as high as mine can exude. There are only three main courses of action we can pursue. One: we can let him go. As Frodo has mentioned before, this is inadvisable, because he would just scamper off, hide behind a rock, then bash us over the head with another rock. So we scratch that. Two: we can kill him. It might seem a little harsh, but that's the one I vote for. Or, three: we bring him along. That's the one I most definitely do not vote for.  
  
Frodo pursed his lips, turning over his options in his mind. "We cannot dally here for long. Until I've decided what to do, let us take him along with us. Sam, since the 'rope' is yours, you shall be the one to take hold of it. Simply loop it around his neck and use it as a leash."  
  
We started to get a move on, but Gollum just wouldn't cut it with the noise. He kept on wailing, flopping around melodramatically and made occasional choking sounds. "It burnssssssses usss!!! The rope! (hack, cough) It BURNSSSSS!!!"  
  
"Shut up!" Sam ordered, yanking on the leash so that Gollum fell flat onto his ugly face. "You'll attract every Orc in Mordor if you continue that!"  
  
Gollum's response was another dramatic flop, then more strangled hacking. He pulled weakly at the rope around his neck, rolled his eyes back, and let out another "It BURNSSSSSSS!!!"  
  
Oh, for fuck's sake, Gollum. Suck it up. It's a drawstring. It's practically a thread. And it's not even tied tightly. Look at me---I'm done up with a =metal chain= here.  
  
Gollum looked up to glare at me. "Your metal chain hasn't been inside the fat hobbits's pantsesssss."  
  
Okay, yeah, you got a point there. Hmm. Wow, ew, that's really gross.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, this can't be allowed to go on! This Gollum creature is obviously out of control. We can't risk having him around. What if he gets his hands on the Ring? It would be all over! Let's just tie him up somewhere and leave him."  
  
"But that would kill us!"  
  
Yes, I think that was the point. But the leaving him to starve plan is too unreliable. Let's do it the direct way: let's stab him right here, right now.  
  
"Perhaps he does deserve to die," Frodo commented, thinking about it. "And yet, I feel pity for him."  
  
But this is an act of pity! It would be like a mercy killing!  
  
Frodo growled, frustrated. "Argh! Why me? It is not enough that we must somehow get to Mount Doom without killing ourselves---"  
  
"Gollum knows how!"  
  
All eyes turned to him.  
  
"Gollum knows how to get to Mount Doom! Yes, yesss. Gollum will take the master there! We swears it!"  
  
"You know how to get us there," Frodo questioned sceptically.  
  
"We can't trust it, Mr. Frodo," said Sam forcefully. "It's just waiting for a chance to kill us in our sleep!"  
  
"What other choice to we have, Sam? We'll never find our way with you leadi---by ourselves. If he can promise," and here Frodo turned to address Gollum, "to keep his word, then we shall let him loose and allow him to guide us."  
  
Gollum, sensing freedom was near, fairly drooled. "Yes, yesss, Master! We swears it! We swears upon...upon the preciousssss!"  
  
Hey, whoa there. Leave me out of it.  
  
Frodo ignored me. "The Ring will bind you to your word," he said sternly.  
  
Fuck you. Leave me alone.  
  
Frodo seemed satisfied enough that Gollum would be doing no head-bashing- with-rocks in the near future. He liberated Gollum from (ew) Sam's drawstring. Gollum leapt to the frontlines, excitedly gesticulating. "Thisss way, Master! Thisssss way!"  
  
I groaned. We were pretty much doing the same thing as before---scrambling madly over rocks that all looked the same---but this time, at a much faster speed. After a while, it got boring. My mind wandered.  
  
Using my powers of sight, I checked in on Merry and Pippin. For your information, your hobbit friends are still alive, I told Frodo. In fact, they seem to be having a better time than we are. Their terrain is a lovely shade of green. And they don't have to do any actual walking. Those Orc monster-things are giving them piggy-backs. What the hell? Why? If I were I bad guy and I kidnapped someone, I'd be harnessing them to a cart and making them pull me, or something. Those idiots.  
  
"Can you talk to people over great distances also?" Frodo asked.  
  
Yeah, but that'd be pretty stupid. My voice would be like a PA system--- all those nasty weapon-wielding demons would hear. So unless you want me to announce to our enemies that we're still alive and well, I wouldn't suggest it.  
  
Frodo made some sort of 'I see, mm-hmm' comment, and then lapsed into silence. Damn, you're a good conversationalist, aren't you? Well, I'll just amuse myself with Merry and Pippin's plight. Let's see. They're travelling really fast because their leader is worried. They know that Aragorn and Co. are following them. I think the plan is to get as far away as possible, hide away come nightfall, and then roast the hobbits quickly. At least, I think they said roast. My Orcish is kinda rusty. I bet it's roast, because they're licking their lips and salivating. But don't you worry, Frodo. Our heroes are right on their path.  
  
I only have to look a little bit to the east of the Orc procession to see Aragorn barging down a hill, wet and dirty hair in his face, manly and businesslike. And there's Legolas daintily scampering down after him, blonde hair streaming in the wind. Y'know, it boggles the mind. How do two people who have spent the last several months within the same two-foot radius manage to have such differing states of cleanliness??? And oh look, Gimli hasn't dropped dead from exhaustion yet. He's still huffing and puffing, intent on not being left more than a few kilometres behind.  
  
Aragorn's tracking skills are impeccable. Man, that guy really impresses me sometimes. He's, like, sniffing the ground for clues. He's hot on their trail. He's---listening to rocks. Okay. That's just a little strange, but hey, whatever gets the job done, right?  
  
In a very rare and no doubt unrepeatable stroke of genius, Pippin left his cloak pin on the ground for Aragorn to find. The cloak pins all of you got, remember, from that lady that I don't want to talk about, ever. And now Legolas spots it.  
  
"I see something pretty and sparkly over there!" Legolas announced, pointing to a far-off knoll.  
  
"Are you sure, my love? That's rather far away," Aragorn said doubtfully.  
  
Legolas flipped his hair and gave his Ranger a 'puh-lease' kind of look. "Trust me. My elf eyes are able to spot even the most elusive of sparkly ornaments."  
  
And so the two of them (three, if you count the dwarf a mile and a half behind) ran to the spot Legolas had pinpointed, and he was right, of course. There was Pippin's pin, slightly trampled but still as sparkly as ever.  
  
"The leaves of Lórien do not fall lightly," Aragorn said, demonstrating his talent at alliterations.  
  
Legolas nodded gravely. "They must be close!"  
  
And, they're off again, dashing to save your friends.  
  
"It sets my heart at ease knowing that Merry and Pippin are in such good hands," Frodo said.  
  
Yeah. That's if they don't lose all the time they've gained by stopping for a little nookie in the bushes.  
  
"Ring! I place complete trust in them. We're talking about the Prince of Mirkwood and the Man Who Will Be King. They know their priorities."  
  
Hey, you've seen them too. You know what they're like. Clothes off and condoms on at the drop of a hat.  
  
"They won't."  
  
Uh-huh.  
  
..."They won't, will they?"  
  
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ps- I just gotta say, I really loved the movie scenes of Aragorn and Legolas (and Gimli) chasing after the evil hobbit-nappers. Loved the way they portrayed the spirit, the Holmes-esque excitement of the hunt...I kept on expecting Aragorn to turn around and say "The game's afoot, Watson!" That is all. Review time now. 


	3. More RingVision!

A/N: Can you believe this? It's the second time in a row where I've only taken one week to update! Don't I rock? Yes, I rock. :) Pardon me. I stayed out late with my good friend and partner in crime (you may recognize her penname, The Late Blake's Assistant) last night, so I'm in a really good mood right now. Oh, yes, I must not forget---Destria, say hi to your grandmother for me. I meant to give her a shout-out last week, but it slipped my mind. Also, I'd like to welcome ReginaLucifer, our newest Al groupie. And a message for the readers who don't review: See what happens when you review? You get =recognition=! So review!!! One more thing. If this chapter sucks, or has a lot of mistakes, blame my right hand. I'm developing mild carpal tunnel syndrome or something...it hurts, and it won't bend properly. So bad story-telling skills in this chapter can and will be attributed to that.  
  
Disclaimers: This work of fanfiction is in no way meant to offend or infringe upon the rights of the Tolkein estate, its subsidiaries and bastard children, whoever's still alive at publishers Allen & Unwin, the executive/office/backroom/janitorial staff of HarperCollins Publishing, the hard-working people of the Time-Warner (also known as Warner Brothers) Corporation, commercial sponsors of anything that ever had anything to do with Lord of the Rings, the caterers to any and all of the events ever featuring Lord of the Rings, people who have paid to read/see Lord of the Rings, or the horse Peter Jackson's chiropractor rode in on.  
  
Chapter 3: More RingVision - - -  
  
Frooooodo...  
  
"What?" he snapped crossly, while attempting to climb upon a particularly slippery boulder.  
  
Nothing. I'm just bored.  
  
"Well, entertain yourself, because I'm busy," he replied, desperately feeling around for some sort of handhold.  
  
But you're the Very Official Ring-Bearer. You're responsible for me.  
  
"Not =now=!" he cried, trying to generate enough leverage by pulling on a decrepit old weed.  
  
Hmph. Be that way. See if I ever do anything nice for you again.  
  
"Ring," he said, little legs scrambling madly as he hauled himself up, "if you don't become a lot less annoying in the next few moments, I will hand you over to Gollum, and that will be the end of that."  
  
Shutting up now. I'll just take a peek at what the others are doing.  
  
Legolas and Aragorn were still tracking the hobbits. They were getting close enough for Legolas to see them. According to the elf, the whole procession was heading for Isengard.  
  
Wait, Isengard? Isn't that where Saruman lives?  
  
"Yes, it is," Aragorn agreed gravely. Then he blinked. "Who said that?"  
  
Oh, me. Al.  
  
"The Ring?" he asked incredulously.  
  
Yes, the Ring. God forbid you refer to that Ring by his actual name.  
  
"But how?" Legolas asked, puzzled.  
  
Damned if I know. Some sort of telepathic power thing. I can see you, too.  
  
Legolas blushed. "Can you see us at all times?"  
  
I'm not perving on you, if that's what you're worried about. God knows I've already seen waaay more than I need to back in Rivendell. Besides, I'm not watching you at all times. I've got life problems of my own to deal with over here.  
  
"Frodo and Sam are still unharmed, then?" Aragorn inquired.  
  
Yeah, a whole day away from your manly protection, and we're still alive and kicking. You're shocked, aren't you?  
  
"Well, I wouldn't say =shocked=, exactly..." He cleared his throat. "But back to the matter at hand. Isengard. Saruman. Traitor to the cause."  
  
Hey, you know what? I could look into that for you.  
  
"You would do that?"  
  
Sure. I have nothing else to do. Frodo is absolutely no fun. He's got to be the world's most boring travelling partner, ever. All he does is mope and frown and brood. It's not very hobbity, you know, to never laugh or even smile a little. Besides, if I can help you achieve world peace, maybe everyone will finally see I'm not evil and stop trying to kill me.  
  
Did you hear that, Frodo? I temporarily turned from Aragorn and Legolas to talk to him. I came up with a plan before you did. You owe me a dollar.  
  
He ignored me.  
  
Frodo says hi, Strider. Okay, so I'll snoop around Isengard and see what Saruman is up to, while you rescue the other hobbits and save Rohan from certain doom.  
  
Aragorn, satisfied with the plan, squared his shoulders heroically. "Come, Gimli!" he called to the distant figure. "We are less than half a day away!"  
  
I concentrated on sending my mind to Isengard, where Saruman was...oh. Crap. Crappity-crap-crap fuck.  
  
"What's wrong?" Frodo asked.  
  
Oh, now you pay attention to me. I don't see why I shouldn't just ignore you the way you've been ignoring me all morning.  
  
"Because I've been carrying you all morning. If you'd rather I let Gollum carry you, fine."  
  
You know what? One of these days, the Gollum threats will stop working, and then where will you be?  
  
"I'll worry about that when that day comes. Now tell me what Saruman is doing that is making you curse so creatively."  
  
He's building an army. An Orc army of mass proportions, fuelled by misplaced ideals and boiling hatred. An Orc army, armed to the teeth and lead by super-smart monsters called Uruk-hai.  
  
"Why would he do that? Isn't he on our side?" Frodo asked, charmingly naïve.  
  
Sauron got to him. The demented old Afghan hound look-alike knows he isn't strong enough to hang around for long. His health is failing, his power is diminishing...he thinks by latching himself onto Sauron, he can stay in control. And Sauron, of course, is perfectly content to let him think that; he needs someone with an actual body to do the dirty work.  
  
"Are you just guessing all of this? How do you know?"  
  
Oh, young Frodo, you do forget yourself. I'm older than you, Gandalf, Aragorn, and Saruman put together. I've been around. I was around for Sauron's very first world domination project. I know how the guy works. And he's good at it, too---the best around. He's got the armies over here, he sics them on the major cities, and while everyone is busy hacking everyone else to death, he takes the throne. He's got world domination down to a precise =art=.  
  
"So what do we do?"  
  
Us? Nothing, for now. It's Aragorn and Co.'s problem right now. Until we're somewhere a little less barren, we can't really do anything. Maybe once we've infiltrated the Black Gate...  
  
"Hey, what's in it for you?" Sam growled. "You've no reason to help us. Why should we believe anything you say?"  
  
Because I don't want to get thrown into Mount Doom, and I see only one way out. Trust me, Sam, being on the same team as you disgusts me more than it does you. But I have no choice. If I don't fight for peace and love and the light of good and sugar and spice and everything nice, I'll be killed. Actually, I'll probably be killed even if I fight on your side, but the prospect is less immediate. Like, in two months, as opposed to sometime next week.  
  
"I still don't believe you," Sam groused, pissed that my superior logic defeated his doubts.  
  
I got news for you, fucktard. It doesn't matter if you believe me. Aragorn, Legolas, Frodo, and Gandalf (if he's still alive)---the people who are calling the shots---they believe me. So you might as well. Because I'm the only one with the insider information you guys will need even stand a chance against Sauron.  
  
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	4. Through the Night

A/N: Look! It's another quick update! Isn't summer great? The only fault I can find in summer is mosquitoes. God, I hate those little fuckers! I'm really, really, reeeeeally allergic to them, to the point where one bite causes drastic swelling. It's scary, actually. I got one on my thigh a couple of weeks ago, and there was a big read mark six inches in diameter---and it hurt, too. I also got one on my knuckle last week...my left hand was so swollen, I couldn't bend my fingers at all. It looked like I was punching a wall for ten hours straight. But both hands are now all better, allowing me to type this chapter. ...You were wondering where all that mosquito-talk was leading, weren't you. You were thinking, "what the hell? No one cares!" But then I managed to tie it all up in a clever lead-in to the chapter. Okay, I'll stop singing my own praises now.  
  
Disclaimers: I like to think that J.R.R. Tolkein doesn't mind LotR fanfiction. He always seemed the grandfatherly-type, willing to indulge the whims of children. And he would surely have been delighted to know that he inspired others to write. So there. Tolkein would not sue me. He'd just be amused.  
  
Chapter 4: Through the Night - - -  
  
Ah, the sun sets in the distant horizon, reminding us that we have lived through yet another dismal day of tramping about in the unchanging maze that is this barren, rocky landscape.  
  
"It's only the second day. I do wish you would be less dramatic," Frodo said.  
  
Ha, =me=?! Look who's talking, Miss Oh-boo-hoo-this-burden-I-bear-is-so-heavy-I-don't-know-how-I-shall-get-through-it.  
  
"I think it's about time we turned in for the night. Don't you think so, Sam?"  
  
Sure, change the subject. You hobbits are all the same.  
  
Sam was delighted that Frodo would actually ask his opinion, and he was ready to agree to just about anything. So, we set up camp. We had to tie Gollum back up, because we couldn't risk letting him run around. We already had one potential rapist to keep an eye on...if both Sam =and= Gollum were loose, we'd never get any rest.  
  
We crawled into our bedrolls early. There wasn't really anything else to do. Well, Sam suggested we play some fireside "games", but Frodo hastily and wisely declined. It didn't take Sam too long to fall asleep. And damn, if he doesn't snore like a congested rhino. If the Orcs were smart, they'd just wait for nightfall and then follow the chain saw like rumbling of Sam's nasal system.  
  
Frodo and I lied, listening to Sam's snoring and Gollum's mad raving.  
  
This is really fucking boring. At least during the day, insignificant events occasionally happen. But then again, at least the darkness masks Gollum's ugliness.  
  
"Don't be so harsh on him, Ring. He's not =that= ugly."  
  
Of course you'd think so. You spend your days with Sam.  
  
Frodo didn't reply, but I have the sneaking suspicion that he was trying to smother a giggle by stuffing his face into his blanket. After a while of silence, it became obvious that Frodo was either asleep, or had asphyxiated on his blanket. It was boring once more. I had nothing to do but spy on Frodo's friends.  
  
The Orcs had begun settling for the night also. Merry and Pippin were tossed into some forgotten corner, presumably to wait while hobbit-roasting fires were being stoked. They were bound securely, and they were talking in hushed tones about trees being alive. (Well, no shit, trees are alive, I thought.) "Trees that can whisper, talk to each other---even move."  
  
Okay, that's it. They're high again. God knows how they managed to access narcotics while being held hostage.  
  
Something happened with the Orcs at that moment. I missed it, because I was watching Pippin and Merry, but I could see the commotion resulting from it. There was dissent among the troops. They were probably arguing about whether to broil or grill the hobbits. Whatever it was, mayhem ensued, resulting in a lot of running around and screaming and indiscriminate killing. Merry and Pippin saw this as a chance to escape, but before they could crawl away from the Orcs and into the relative safety of the nearby forest, they were caught.  
  
"You're not going anywhere," Hideous Orc Goon #1 said, climbing on top of Pippin.  
  
What is with everyone trying to rape hobbits? Does everyone harbour deep-seated paedophiliac tendencies that get triggered by the sight of their little bodies? Or are they just really rape-able???  
  
Before Pippin could be thoroughly debauched, a random arrow buried itself into the Orc's back.  
  
Suddenly, a whole pack of gallant horsemen blazed in on their valiant steeds, swinging their powerful weapons, striking down Orcs faster than you can say "testosterone".  
  
"Who are they?"  
  
AHH!!! Crap! You scared the shit outta me, Frodo! I thought you were asleep!  
  
"Well, I was trying to be, but =someone= wouldn't be quiet... So, who are the horsemen?"  
  
Yes, the heroic cavalry riding in to save the day. I don't know who they are, but ten bucks says they're related to Aragorn somehow.  
  
"Well, since Merry and Pippin are being rescued by these mysterious horsemen, can we not go to sleep now, assured of their safety?"  
  
Yeah, okay, fine.  
  
I stopped looking in on them, and focussed on getting some sleep. Which was much easier said than done. In between Frodo's and Sam's constant snoring and Gollum's graphic descriptions of what he planned to do with me once he got his hands on me, I didn't get an awful lot of sleep. A few nightmares, perhaps, but little actual sleep.  
  
The next morning, we were up and ready to go at first light.  
  
"Gollum says we shall be able to make our way out of this stone hinterland by noon today," Frodo commented we started our daily walk.  
  
Good to hear. Glad his navigational abilities are better than =a certain someone else's= (coughSAMcough).  
  
We walked for a while. "Sam, would you please stop staring at me that way?"  
  
"I was only glaring at the Ring in anger, Mr. Frodo! I swear!"  
  
"That was not 'anger' I saw in your eyes, Samwise," Frodo said under his breath, tucking me into his shirt.  
  
I didn't really mind too much, because that way I didn't have to look at Gollum, Sam, or the miles and miles of depressing rocks. I had to check in with Aragorn and Legolas anyway.  
  
Wow, you certainly made progress from where I saw you last.  
  
"That is because we spent most of the night gaining ground. We only allowed ourselves two hours' repose," Legolas informed me.  
  
"Oh, they allowed themselves two hours alright, but it was not for reposing, let me tell you," Gimli muttered through his increasingly dirty beard. The thing was disgusting. It was starting to attract fleas and ticks and small rodents. It was almost getting to be as filthy as...as...as Aragorn's hair!  
  
"Any news?" Aragorn asked, veering me back onto the topic at hand.  
  
Well, everyone made it through the night alive over here, and---Aragorn, would you please stop acting so surprised every time you find out we haven't died? We don't need your protection =that= much. Christ. Okay, and I found out some mighty interesting information at Isengard. It seems that Saruman has been a busy little nursing home reject. He is officially in a league with Sauron.  
  
"The White Wizard, a traitor!" Aragorn looked grim. Well, grimmer than usual.  
  
And then Legolas joined him in looking grim. He was gazing off to the horizon and frowning. "A red sun rises this morning," he said.  
  
Sailors take warning?  
  
"No, blood has been spilled this past night."  
  
Oh.  
  
Before this idea could develop, there was a rumbling from a distance. From our experience with cave trolls and Balrogs, we've learned that distant rumbling is not a nice sign. Aragorn quickly ushered them all behind a conveniently placed boulder.  
  
It was the hoard of brave horsemen from last night.  
  
Aragorn quickly stepped out from behind the boulder to greet them. See? I knew he had to at least know them.  
  
"Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?"  
  
At the sound of his voice, each and every one of the riders turned his horse and levelled his weapon at Aragorn.  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
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	5. The Riders of Rohan

A/N: I couldn't get the Internet to work on my computer until now, which is why this chapter's so late. But dammit! I broke my thus-far perfect record of an update every week. Better late than never, though, right? Oh, hey, some of you may be interested to know that I've come up with an ending for the whole Al trilogy. I know that it won't come for months (probably years), but I just wanted to tell you that the ending in the works is =awesome=. Y'all are in for something special if you stick with me 'til the end.

Disclaimers: Fanfiction. From the root words 'fan' and 'fiction'. I am but a lowly fan with no money, and this is merely a harmless work of fiction. Simple.

Chapter 5: The Riders of Rohan - - -

The Riders expertly steered their horses to surround Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. A man, apparently their leader, rode forward. He had on multi layers of protective gear, a really dirty helmet over his equally dirty face, and he was equipped with more weapons than he could ever possibly use at one time. He exuded a rough masculinity that (almost) rivalled Aragorn's own.

"What business do a Man, an Elf, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" he asked commandingly.

"Gimme yer name, an' I shal gi' ye mine," Gimli said in a suddenly pronounced Irish accent.(1)

Dude, he said =dwarf=, not leprechaun.

"Screw you." I assume Gimli was directing that remark to me, but the leader of the Riders didn't know that. Boy, was he mad.

"I would cleave your head from your shoulders if you stood but a little higher," he said with a growl.

"Yea? An' ye'll miss it if ya try!" Gimli the Leprechaun returned.

"I doubt I could miss something that large and grotesque!" the manly leader shot back.

"Hey, nobody but I am allowed to insult the Dwarf thus!" Legolas jumped in.

The manly leader turned his attention to Legolas. "You wanna go, bitch?" he sneered.

Legolas whipped his arrows out and levelled at the offending man. Oh yeah, that's great. You do know that they have like fifty spears, right?

Aragorn thought that the hormone-driven macho posing had gone too far. Concerned for Legolas's sanity---er, safety, he decided to defuse the situation. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Legolas, a prince of Mirkwood. The Dwarf is Gimli, son of Glóin. We are friends of Rohan and your king, Théoden."

"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," the man replied with a manly sigh. "Not even his own kin." He signalled his men to relax their spears, then took off his helmet.

All three of our pals gave a quiet gasp of amazement.

Okay, I'm lost. I assume they're not gasping at the stringiness of his hair or the dirtiness of his face. But if not that, then what?

"Eomer, the king's nephew!" Aragorn exclaimed, mostly for my benefit.

Thank you.

Eomer nodded solemnly. "All those who are loyal to Rohan and its people have been banished under pain of death. Saruman's eyebrowless, spineless, =heartless= slave-puppet, Grima, has control now. He takes advantage of our once-strong king and drives our people to destruction," he took a moment to tone down his anger before he burst a capillary. "Soon, Rohan will fall completely and irrevocably into the hands of Saruman."

The White Wizard is cunning, I commented.

"Yes, he---wait, what the hell was that?"

The spears all pointed at Aragorn & Legolas & Gimli again.

Aragorn explained the situation calmly. "What you have just heard was the voice of Sauron's One Ring. A Fellowship of nine set out from Rivendell to destroy the Ring, but we found out that the legends of old have been mistaken. Sauron's powers do not lie in the Ring. In fact, the Ring is not evil at all, and possesses no powers except the ability to speak and see all. It is on our side now, helping us gather valuable information through the use of its Sight."

Eomer nodded in understanding.

Hey, wait, what the fuck? It took me months---MONTHS---to convince Frodo of my innocence. Months, you hear me? And I lived with him for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. This guy here, he just believes you like that?! You don't even =look= trustworthy!

"Sometimes, it is best to ignore it," Aragorn advised quietly, as though I wouldn't hear that.

"Right. Well, I apologize for our over-cautiousness. There are spies everywhere in these lands."  
  
"We are no spies," Aragorn assured him. "We're simply in search of a large band of Orcs and Uruk-Hai."

Eomer cleared his throat. "We were very frustrated and angered last night, for we still had not come to terms with our exile...we drowned our sorrows in the only way true men would."

"You killed every last one of the Uruks?" Aragorn asked. Eomer affirmed it.

I find it very sad that Strider knew exactly what he was talking about.

"There were two hobbits there," Gimli said, bringing us back to the actual point. "Did you see two hobbits?"

"We left none alive. We piled all the carcasses and burned them."  
  
Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a knowing look. "Therein is the reason we were so randy last night!" Legolas muttered. "The smell of burning monster flesh always turns me on," Aragorn agreed.

Ahem. Ooooooooooooooooookay. So not gonna go there.

"The hobbits are most likely dead. I am so sorry for your loss," Eomer continued, having the good fortune of missing that exchange entirely. He actually looked like he meant it, too. The thought of having killed two lovable hobbits wracked him with guilt...which multiplied tenfold when Legolas started to pout.

"Merry. Pippin." Legolas's bottom lip trembled.

Eomer snapped his fingers hastily. His Riders brought forth two of the most beautiful horses ever bred for nobility. "May you accept our condolences and deep regret," Eomer said, handing over the reigns.

Dude, those horses in exchange for the Dynamic Duo? That's a really fucking great deal. Those horses are better, cleaner, smarter, stronger, and more useful than the hobbits ever were.

The Riders, satisfied that they had sufficiently atoned for their hobbitcide, rode off northwards.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli stood alone in the countryside once again. Legolas still looked like he might cry. Gimli looked pretty bummed, too.

C'mon guys, cheer up. I've got an inkling that Merry and Pippin aren't dead. It can't be =that= easy to shut them up forever. I'll try to locate them, and then contact you gentlemen later, okay?

"Fine," Aragorn agreed, swinging up onto one of the horses.

I quickly stopped looking in on that part of the world. They were going to investigate the dead Orc pile. God knows I really don't need to see Legolas and Aragorn having freak-deaky sex next to a pile of corpses.

"Are you sure they might still be alive?" Frodo asked me, eyes going wide(r) at the thought of his little hobbit friends dying.

Trust me. I don't even need to concentrate to find them. I can hear them squealing and being annoying all the way from here.

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	6. Garden Gnomes on Crack

A/N: First and foremost, I wanna say a big thank you to SireenC, who gave me a lovely review that left me smiling for hours. I just love it when I rope in a newbie. Secondly, congratulations and best wishes to Chaosti, who is all grown up and spreading her wings now (I've given you so many good wishes, they =have= to add up and come into effect at some point, right?). And thirdly, has anyone seen "The Bourne Supremacy"? Karl Urban was in that. He didn't really impress me as Eomer, but I thought he was awesome in "Bourne Supremacy"---he should just play gun-toting badasses from now on.

Disclaimers: The guilt of violating copyright laws is punishment enough; there's no need to sue me.

Chapter 6: Garden Gnomes on Crack - - -

Aha! Just as I suspected. Frodo, there's no need for you to worry. Your friends are still as alive as ever. They're in some sort of dark forest. The big, old type, with big old trees everywhere. And moss. And vines. Just really green things, in general. They're on one of the trees, actually.

"Ask them if they're alright," Frodo orders.

Hey, you guys okay?

"Oh my god, who's there?" Merry screeched, twisting around in terror.

Whoa, relax. It's me, Al.

"Did you hear that, Pippin? Did you hear that?! It's MeeY'ale, the most fearsome of the old forest beasts, with long, gnashing teeth and skin covered with thorns and nostrils that shoot poison!" And then both of them started freaking out, screaming girlishly and writhing around.

Oh, for the love of--- Listen. It's me. The Ring.

"Merry!" Pippin shrieked. "THE RING!!! It's killed Frodo and now it's taking over our minds!!!!!"

=What= minds? Listen to me, okay? I have not killed Frodo, and I am not taking over your supposed "minds". Frodo asked me to make sure you're alright. What are you doing, anyway? Why the hell are you riding a walking tree???

Both Merry and Pippin started talking at once. "Okay, last night we were with the Orcs, and they wanted to eat us, but not all of them wanted to eat us, only some of them wanted to eat us, so there was a big fight over whether they should eat us, and then all these horses came out of nowhere, and the riders of the horses jumped into the fight, so it was really messy, so we had a chance to escape, which we did, and we ran into the forest that was nearby, but an Orc was still chasing us, so we kept running to get away from it, and it was catching up to us, so we climbed onto a tree to escape from it, but we couldn't escape, and we were screaming, and then all of a sudden the tree opened its eyes and killed the Orc, but now the tree thinks we're Orcs too, so it's taking us with it until it decides on what to do with us, which is why we're in the tree, because it won't let go of us, and it's walking around the forest holding onto us, and it won't let go of us."

Oh god, I need an aspirin.

There was a long silence during which I tried to stop the ringing in my ears.

"So---"

No, please don't talk. Pause. How about we let the tree talk? Hi, I'm a disembodied voice. What are you?

"My name is Treebeard. I am an Ent: a tree-herder, a shepherd of the forest," the tree replied in a low, groaning voice.

Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. You herd =trees=?! Damn, your job must be tough, shepherding those trees. You gotta make sure them delinquent trees don't up and run off on you.

"Nobody respects me anymore," he moaned. "Nobody cares for the woods anymore... Everybody just hacks and chops, with their axes and their hate. Nobody is on our side anymore."

Oh, boohoo. You wanna hear =my= sob story?

"No. Begone, Disembodied Voice. I have much work to do. I must bring these little strangelings to the White Wizard."

Merry's and Pippin's eye's widened. They looked like they were about to start babbling again, so I interjected.

Hey, Old Tree Man, look, um...taking them to Saruman probably isn't a really good idea right now. You see---

"Too late."  
  
Up ahead, I could see a distinguished white glow that definitely indicated the White Wizard. But his silhouette seemed a bit off. Or very off. Hey, I don't think that's the White Wizard. In fact, I think---

A loud, wet, squishy sound brought my attention from the forest and back to our current reality.

Frodo? What the fuck is going on? Why are we stepping into a SWAMP?!?!

"Gollum has brought us out of the rocks and closer to the heart of Mordor, as promised," Frodo informed me.

"Yeah," Sam looked smug, "we are close to Mount Doom now, and getting ever closer; to the mountain, its fire, and your destruction."

Oh. Shit.

Gollum sidled up close to Frodo (who gave him a weird look and tried to shift away, but couldn't due to the narrowness of the path). "My precioussssssssss...Gollum knows a way to save you. We promisessss to keep you alive, if you promise to stay with us forever."

Ew, no, I'd rather die, thank you.

"Fine." Gollum turned and flounced down the marshy path. "This way!" he beckoned with a wave of his hand. "This way to Mount Doom! Gollum knows the safe route!"

Great. We're making our way across a deadly bog filled with corpses following the guidance of an anorexic psychopath who's wearing nothing but a loincloth. What could possibly be worse---hey, Frodo? Why are we leaning waaaaaay over the water? Uh, Frodo?

FRODO?!?!?!

::splash::

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	7. Beyond the Dead Marshes

A/N: Aww, damn damn damn damn damn. Back to school. I don't waaaaaaaanna! Why did summer have to go away? WHY?!?!?! You would not believe how much school is demanding out of me---a person only has so much to give! So, yes, unfortunately, the only-updated-once-every-month-or-so-ness will come back. Sorry; I love you all, but I love my honours marks too. Oh, one more thing, before I forget. I've been struggling with the decision of whether to follow the books' version of events, or the movies'. They differ the most in book two, and after exhaustive thought, I've decided to stick with the movies. Plot-wise, anyhow...I'm going for the books' characterizations still, but everything else will be based mostly on the movies. By everything else, I mean stuff like the spelling of Grima Wormtongue's name and the tricky business of Haldir's death. I figure more people here have seen the movies than read the books, and it'll just be less confusing for all involved.

Chapter 7: Beyond the Dead Marshes - - -

Sinking slowly but surely down into the slime-infested water, my thoughts raced frantically. I'd heard somewhere that all hobbits were really bad swimmers. Meaning Frodo would drown. And since I was stuck on a chain, he'd take me down with him, all the way down to the bottom. I really didn't want to go through that again. Especially since this time, there are about a bazillion dead bodies down here with me. There are few things more traumatizing than being stuck underwater with rotting corpses for centuries. Okay, there are actually lots of things more traumatizing...Aragorn and Legolas have shown me most of them, too. But still, the prospect of living indefinitely in cold, murky water surrounded by dead bodies isn't fun. In fact---

We were dragged out of the water suddenly, and Frodo was deposited coughing and sputtering onto firm land. I turned to look at our saviour.

"Master must be more careful! Yesss, much more careful. Good thing we were here to save Master and the preciousssssss."

Quick, Frodo, jump back in!

Sam batted me away. Either that, or he was reaching for Frodo's nipple. ...Let's pretend he was batting me away.

"Are you alright, Mr. Frodo? Are you hurt? Do you require medical attention? Or perhaps a hug?"

"No, no. Sam, I said no. Would you stop holding me so tightly? I'm quite alright. It was just a little tumble. I merely got disoriented by the corpses and the strange lights. Let's just keep on."

Our little party continued on, picking our way through the marshes.

I'm cold.

"So am I. Now be quiet," Frodo told me.

I'm wet.

"I'm wetter."

I'm miserable.

"I'm more miserable than you could ever possibly imagine."

I'm being bodily carried to my death.

"Well I'm---Dammit, Ring, how do you always drag me into these senseless squabbles?"

Ooh, Frodo swore!

Frodo looked around for something to bang his head on. All he found was Sam, giving him the sympathetic 'The Ring must be such a burden' look and offering yet another hug. Before Frodo had to let him down yet again, Gollum's gratingly annoying voice crowed in the distance.

"We have reached the end of the marshessssssssssss!"

Hitting solid land was the only good thing that happened all day. We literally just collapsed onto the ground, too tired to move on. I take it that this is where we're camping for the night?

Frodo raised his head a little. "Unless you want to carry us to a different location, for a change?"

No, I'm good.

We settled in, dozing on and off as darkness set in. I was just in that pleasant state of fuzziness, right before falling asleep, when everything was kind of hazy, when I heard...a sound. A kind of squishy, wet sound. I looked around my limited field of vision. Frodo's bed roll took up most of it. I could see the moon, and part of Gollum's back further away. The noise didn't really seem to come from any of that. The sound got more urgent as I looked around. They got quicker, more rhythmic. And then Sam gave a muffled groan. I gathered all my strength and pulled my self up to peer over Frodo's shoulder.

Oh. My. Fuck.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Frodo! I hissed, trying not to attract Sam's attention.

"Wha?" He asked blurrily, sounding very tired.

I think Sam is jerking off!

Frodo's eyes snapped open. "What?" he whispered furiously. It wasn't really all that quiet or discreet, but Sam was so far along in his, uh, activities that he wouldn't notice.

Your loyal friend is whacking away in his sleeping bag, probably while fantasizing about you, I informed him clearly.

Frodo scrambled up and away. He looked around, carefully avoiding the moaning lump that was Sam. "Gollum!"

He fairly ran over to Gollum. "Sméagol!"

Gollum turned from whatever the hell he was doing to glare at Frodo. "What did you call me?"

"Sméagol, Gollum, old buddy. Let's talk about your past. Your very long and complicated past that will keep me from my bed for a lengthy period. And if you finish early, you can start all over again, from the beginning!" Frodo sat down next to him.

It was a looooooooong night.

Gollum was into his third re-telling of his sordid past (funny, it was different each time...) when the sun's first rays finally appeared.

Frodo, I think I want to die. Anything to get me out of this nightmare. I want to be pitched into the hottest fires in Mount Doom.

"I want to jump in with you," Frodo agreed, his eyes bloodshot from staying up all night. He took a quick glance at Sam, who was thankfully still. "How will I ever face him today?"  
  
I don't know, man. Your problem. I'm gonna check in with Strider.

So saying, I took my mind far, far away.

Hey guys, 'sup? And yes, for your information, Aragorn, we are all of us still alive, thankyouverymuch.

"As are Merry and Pippin," Gimli said, as though this was some sort of great news.

Yeah, I know. I checked in with them just yesterday.

"Well then ya could've saved us the trouble of tracking them all this way," Gimli groused.

"This forest is old," Legolas announced. "Very old."

...Um. Yeah. What gave that away, Captain Obvious? The fact that one tree trunk is wider than you are tall?

"Ring," Aragorn said in a 'don't mess with my elfie-welfie, even if he is retarded' tone of voice. "Do you know of any other useful information that can help us find the hobbits?"  
  
Well, now that you mention it, I do. They were taken to the White Wizard, except the dude I saw wasn't Saruman. Actually, he kinda looked like...he kinda looked like the guy currently sneaking up on you right now.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli all whipped around.

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ps- This chapter was kind of crappy...in my opinion, anyways. It was rushed, and you can really tell in some parts. I did my best under the circumstances. Once again, I'm really sorry that updates won't be quick or regular anymore. There's nothing like a good review to get me motivated though...::hint hint::


	8. Gandalf is Not Dead

A/N: Hi, everyone. ::ducks from the volley of thrown objects:: I know, I know. This update is kind of a little on the late side. But I have been really, really, REALLY busy. If any of you are familiar with the International Baccalaureate program, you'll know what kind of busy I'm talking about. For those who don't, just take my word for it. I'm studying my ass off, doing five hours of homework a night, and not getting any sleep. And the worst part is, I actually want to write. I have all these awesome ideas, but no time! Damn, damn, damn, damn! I swear, I'll try my best to keep all future updates within a month of the last one. I swear! And I've gotta say, all of you are the world's bestest readers for putting up with my tardiness. You rock.

Disclaimers: I forgot to put one up last chapter, and I haven't been nailed by the Copyright Police yet, so I'm starting to question the useful nature of these disclaimer things.

Chapter 8: Gandalf is Not Dead

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli whirled around, their weapons at ready for anything. Well, almost anything. Not quite this, though.

"GANDALF?!?!?!" they all gasped.

Gandalf the Wizard, looking resplendent in his glowing white robes, smiled benignly, and nodded.

"But...but...you're dead!" Gimli said in a voice hushed with awe.

"I am very much alive," Gandalf assured him.

"No, you are most definitely dead," Legolas said.

Gandalf frowned. "No, I am not."

"Yes you are," Aragorn said.

"I am not dead."

"Yes you are!"

"I am not!"

"Yes you---"

Guys? Guys. I'm inclined to think that the dude is not dead.

"Alfonso!" Gandalf said to me. "You're not dead either!"

Whoa, hey. Before we get all excited and throw a 'yay, we're not dead' party, there are some things you and I have to discuss. Aside from dead, you know what I'm also not? Free. Happy. Unthreatened by imminent death. Away from Sam. And do you know whose fault it is that I'm not any of those things? Yours.

Gandalf coughed. "Spare an old man, dear Al. I've been through hell and back. I had to fight the Balrog, and then claw my way back up to the light, kicking and gasping for breath. And then I had to don the awesome responsibility of being a White Wizard, because Saruman is obviously unfit for the task..."

Yeah, no sympathy points from me, geezer. Although, I do wonder...why is it that you can go through all that, wear all white, walk through the forest, and stay spotlessly clean, while Aragorn looks like crap?

"I do not look like crap...the rugged look is sexy," Aragorn informed me tartly. Legolas agreed fervently.

"Now, gentlemen, this is not a time to fool around. We have urgent matters to attend to," Gandalf said gravely.

Ooh, ooh, ooh! You're gonna rescue me?

"Uh...no. These are dark times we live in. War is about to break out across the land. It will start in Rohan. We must get to Edoras with haste."

And what about me?

"Well..." Gandalf looked embarrassed.

"It's okay, we know that the Ring is not evil," Aragorn said.

"Really?" Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you send him off to Mount Doom?"  
  
"It was getting really messy, with nine people and all that. We were getting attacked left and right. Plus, the Fellowship was pretty evenly split about the Ring; some thought it was evil, some did not. So Frodo figured that the best thing to do was just to take it himself, pretend to be going to Mount Doom as expected, and then think of a plan on the way. But then Sam took it upon himself to follow them, and now he's pushing for the Ring to be killed." Aragorn summarized.

"Oh. Huh. You've managed to make an even bigger mess of this whole thing than I thought was possible," Gandalf said, sounding impressed.

And to think, it all started because a certain somebody told a complete LIE about me, and then wasn't responsible enough to deal with the consequences and fix everything he broke.

"Oh, Alfonso, I really am sorry. I promise, I will try my best to come up with something in the near future. I give you my word that---"

Oh, stuff it. I've had enough from all of you, swearing to help me and then never following through with it. I won't be deceived again!

"Oh, lovely," Legolas muttered to himself. "A temper tantrum."

Go fight your stupid little war, I told them petulantly.

They tramped their way out of the forest in awkward silence. Gandalf whistled, and three horses magically appeared out of nowhere. They got on, and rode off in what was presumably the direction of Edoras. Gandalf tried to talk to me a few times, and make pathetic excuses for his unpardonable behaviour. I got reeeeeally tired of it, though, and so I zoned back in to my own present reality.

Which was a really, really bad idea.

Because the very first thing that greeted me was the sight of the Black Gate.

TBC

ps- Again, I apologise if this chapter was sucky. I'm at school, and someone was wheedling me to hurry up so he could use the computer. Plus, I'm had like four hours of sleep. I promise you the next one will be better if you'll just give me a chance. And review.


	9. The Black Gate

A/N: I tried to update last week, but ff(dot)net was all wonked-up and wouldn't let me upload anything. So, for once, the lateness was not my fault. On another note, I really need you people to be more supportive. Hear me out here; I'm spending precious study time writing this for the enjoyment of all. I don't wanna feel like no one even cares. The least you could do is let me know you've read the chapter. Like, a pat on the back would be nice, too. Or even bitchy, negative feedback. I just want a response!!! Am I all alone?!?! Are you there??? Hellooooo????? Also, you might notice that this chapter is longer than usual. That's because I feel guilty for not updating more often. See, it's give and take. I did my part, so do yours and review! Oh, and one more thing. This chapter gets a little angst-heavy at the end. Mordor is starting to get to everyone. (By angst-heavy, I mean more angst than the usual amount, which is none. It's not, like, actually sad or anything...)

Disclaimers: Na na, na na na na boo boo! Look, ma, no disclaimer!

Chapter 9: The Black Gate - - -

The infamous Black Gate loomed threateningly, no further than a hundred steps away.

Y'know, it's not really all that Black. It's more of a grey. Silver, in some parts.

Frodo, Sam, and Gollum all gave me a look that was a mixture of staring and glaring.

What? I'm just saying! I make colourful and witty commentary to mask my fear. It's a defence mechanism I hold onto, when all else has either failed or abandoned me.

Frodo eyed the scary, armed Uruk guards lurking on top of the Gate. "Shut. Up," he hissed.

Oh, I'm sorry, Frodo, I should've asked your permission for breathing. Christ, who died and made you my mother?

"That doesn't even make sense, Ring. Just shut up and let me think of a way to solve all our problems."

My brilliant retort was lost forever, as just then a loud rumbling shook the ground. Great. Loud rumbling---always a good sign.

We looked down, and SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THINGS HOLY!

"Shut up!" Frodo said, giving me a smack.

Well, sorry for being surprised that A BILLION ARMED SOLDIERS are storming through!

"You are going to get us all killed," Frodo muttered darkly to himself.

Nonsense. The clanking of their armour is way too loud for them to hear little ol' me from so far away. Give the diva act a rest, Frodo. …Hey, why'd they all stop? What is that, a foghorn?

A loud 'tooooooooooooot' signalled the opening of the Gate. Apparently, these people knew nothing of basic physics, pulley systems, levers, gears, or even lubrication for the hinges. The Gates had to be opened via many strong people shoving at once, and it gave several loud squeals and moans that sounded vaguely like the ones that come from Aragorn and Legolas's sleeping quarters late at night. I guess they shouldn't have spent all the money on the shiny silver siding; should've saved some for WD-40, or something.

The Gate eventually opened with a final groan. Sam saw his opportunity.

"We can sneak in now, Mr. Frodo!" he said excitedly, apparently not seeing the previously mentioned billion armed soldiers.

Frodo tried to stop him, but he was already scrambling over the rocks we were on, trying to find a way down. And, with classic hobbit adroitness, he tripped over his own feet and went tumbling down.

"SAM! NO!"

Oh, so when I say something, it's waaay too loud, but you can scream all you want. I see how it is.

Frodo ignored me and ran down after Sam. Unfortunately, I couldn't just ignore Frodo and let him kill himself, because I was attached to his neck.

Whoa now, no need to get all heroic and risk my life too. Frodo? Frodo, seriously, you're freaking me out. Easy now, steady on. Great, now we're falling too. Steady on. Shit, would it have killed you to show a smidgen of courtesy and take me off before you hurl yourself off a cliff? At the very least, you should've, y'know, warned me.

We finally reached Sam, in a flurry of flying pebbles. Fuck, I think that little plummet took ten years off my life. And…dude. Sam. How in all hell did you manage to get yourself wedged shoulders-deep into tightly packed gravel just by falling? Your stupidity never ceases to amaze.

Frodo worked on digging him out while I took advantage of his inability to move his arms and taunted him. Before we could crawl our way back up to safety, though, two of the guards broke ranks and sauntered over towards us. Frodo, I think we've been spotted!

Frodo, to his credit, acted with more resourcefulness than I thought he possessed. He quickly whipped his cloak over us, covering us up. From the blank looks on the soldiers' faces when their eyes passed right over us, I could guess that the cloak had to be doing some sort of magic.

See, I've always loved those Elves and their marvellous inventions.

"No you haven't," Sam whispered back.

"Does no one know how to keep quiet in the face of danger," Frodo ground out between his teeth.

Despite Frodo's fears that we would be discovered, the soldiers went away. We clawed back up the rocks and hid in relative safety. When the last of the soldiers made their way through the Gate, Frodo piped up.

"I think we should go for it."

What?!

"We do not know when the Black Gate shall open next," he mused. "We should go while we have the chance."

Sam made some celebratory noises while I tried to regain my composure.

Frodo, there is no way in hell I'm letting you do this to me. You fucking promised that you'd take care of me. You can't just go back on your word and take me to Mount Doom!

I looked around desperately for some sort of leverage, and my eyes lit on Gollum. Gollum was more on my side than the other two, because he still harboured secret hopes of getting back together with me. Maybe if I could convince him to help me out…without being too obvious about it, of course.

Frodo, if you take me there, there is a ninety-eight, no, ninety-nine percent chance I'll die. I don't want to die! Think of all the people I'll never see again! You can't kill me!!!

Well, that got Gollum's attention. He got pretty worked up over the 'people I'll never see again' bit, and started getting a little agitated.

"Master! We shouldn't go through the Black Gate! The Black Gate is evil!"

Yes! God, I'm good.

"I know of a different way. A better way. Please, let me take you!"

Frodo looked unsure.

Gollum flung himself onto Frodo, clinging onto his arm and giving him huge puppy eyes. Ew! I didn't know those eyes could actually get bigger!

"Pleeeeeease, Master!"

Frodo watched the Black Gate begin to close. "Oh, alright, I guess. But you had better not be lying about the other route, or you will live to regret it."

Gollum nodded earnestly. We all trailed after him as he took the lead again, taking us on a hopefully long, roundabout path that would lead us to nowhere. Sam muttered to himself, sounding pissed off that Mr. Frodo's mind was being eaten alive by the Ring. Whatever. I had more important things to deal with.

Fucking Christ, Frodo, I can't believe you. 'We should go for it'?!?!?! What the hell is wrong with you, Frodo? Have you lost what little mind you had?

Frodo sighed. "Look, Ring, I've been thinking---" he ignored my snort at that claim, "and I've come to the conclusion that it might be best for everybody involved if we just pitched you into Mount Doom."

WHAT?!?! It would not be best for everybody involved, because it most certainly would not be best for me. Jesus, Frodo.

"No, just think about it! You---"

I can't believe you're asking me to think about letting you toss me into a fire. What happened to that sweet boy from the Shire, the one who would never have even considered murdering an innocent???

"That boy is gone, okay?" he said hotly. "That boy is sick and tired of this stupid journey. That boy does not want to go through five more near-death experiences in the next hour. That boy is tired, and he's calling it quits."

Oh, that's real fair, Frodo. Kill me because you're _tired_.

"It's not just that. In these past few months, I have seen people kill each other in the hopes of gaining power. That army back there? A man who was once a good wizard is now helping to amass it, in order to launch a world war. Maybe killing you will finally put a stop to all the senseless slaughtering."

Okay, that's it. You're not allowed to hang out with Sam anymore. That boy is getting to you, Frodo. He claims I am, but it's definitely him who's putting ideas into your head. Listen to yourself! You're honestly considering killing me.

Frodo got defensive. "Well, it's not like you would feel it, much. I'm sure the death is practically instantaneous."

And those words will be a great comfort to me, my dear hobbit, in my last moments, consumed by fire, unloved and alone, forsaken by those whom I thought were my friends.

"Ring…"

No, you know what? This is stupid. You think you're sick and tired of all this bullshit? That's nothing compared to how crappy I'm feeling right now. I refuse to continue talking about this, because I don't want to catch your stupidity. I know it must be contagious, because you didn't have it before. Sam must have breathed his stupid onto you.

"Ring, come on."

No. Fuck you, Frodo. I'm gonna take my mind far, far away now, because I can't deal with your treachery right now. While I'm gone, I want you to search your heart, and think long and hard about whether you really want to commit the ultimate betrayal.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -TBC

Oh, the melodrama! Al and Frodo just needed to get that out of their systems, y'know, have a little freak-out. They'll be alright…I think.


	10. Edoras

A/N: Happy holidays to one and all! Thanks and leftover Christmas cookies go to those who read and reviewed the last chapter. …And that's all I have to say ::gasp!:: The shortest author's notes ever in the history of "Alfonso the Ring"!!! Wait, wait, false alarm. There is one more thing: I've said it before, but I wanna reiterate. The whole deal with Grima/Grimer Wormtongue's name? I'm spelling it Grima. If anyone has a big issue with this, take it up with Tolkein's estates while I laugh at how pathetic your life is.

Disclaimers: Sometimes, when a mommy fic and a daddy fic love each other veeery much, they get together and have a baby fic…and I have no idea what I'm trying to say.

Chapter 10: Edoras - - -

So, like I said, I had to get the hell out of there, if not in body then at least in mind. It wouldn't do for me to get so riled up that I actually kill the motherfucker, because then Sam would have more of an argument for his 'see, the Ring is evil and we have to kill it!' case.

I made the mistake of dropping in on our trusty mounted protagonists, though. Aragorn was just way too happy. Which was to be expected, of course. I mean, he had everything needed to make a Ranger happy: he was in the great outdoors, he hadn't bathed for weeks, he looked really rugged, he was getting plenty of exercise, and he was on a mission to rescue people and be a hero.

"Hiya, Ring! How's it going?"

Don't even start, Strider, because I am so not in the mood. I just got betrayed by a midget, with whom I was actually in love a few months ago. In fact, I wouldn't even be on this little adventure, if it weren't for Frodo's dastardly charms. I could still be happily living in retired comfort with his uncle, but I left him because his nephew was just too fucking pretty. Now, said nephew has sided with his gardener for chrissakes, and they want to kill me. The only chance I have of escaping my situation is if I get back together with my ex, and you're not listening to a word I'm saying. You're just sitting there, ignoring me, staring at a hill with a bunch of huts on it.

"That's Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld," Gandalf informed me sagely.

Yeah, I know, you poseur. I've known since before your grandfather was still in diapers, or do you forget who's your elder and your better?

Gandalf ignored me and continued talking to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. "Saruman's hold over King Theoden is very strong, and getting stronger with each passing day."

Oh, yeah, that reminds me—I've got a little reconnaissance info for you. I just found out, firsthand, that the Big Guy is amassing huge, and I mean HUGE, armies. They're numbering in the hundred-thousands, and every single one is armed to the teeth.

Legolas looked grim.

Hey, what do you have to be grim about? Out of all of us here, you're the only one who doesn't have anything to frown about. No one's out to hurl you into a fire, no one's going to force you to become king when you don't want to be, you're not old, you're not short and ugly, and no one's riding on your back. Plus, you're frickin' immortal, and you're getting laid on a regular basis. Think about poor little me, out there with no one but a hairless gremlin, a fucktard, and Princess Frodo to keep me company.

Legolas rolled his eyes and flipped his silken hair over his shoulder. The horsemen sat looking at Edoras for a few more moments, and then started to ride through the city gates.

Hey, look! Even all of the peasants living way below the poverty line are cleaner than you, Aragorn!

Legolas took a look around. "They are all staring at us," Legolas whispered to his love-bunny.

Gee, I wonder why. Could it be the fact that they don't usually see a bunch of freaks riding into town straight out of a really crappy children's fairytale?

They rode on through, under the close scrutiny of a hundred glowering townsfolk. At the front of the Golden Hall, they were stopped by a buff guard who looked vaguely reminiscent of a cross between Aragorn and Gimli, and ew, that's something I don't want to think about.

"I cannot allow you to enter so armed," the buff guard told them. "By order of Grima Wormtongue."

Ew, that loser's around?!

"Don't tell me you used to date him too…" Gandalf muttered with obvious distaste.

Gah, GOD NO. I would never ever ever ever ever ever date a loser like that!

Gandalf coughed. "Gollum…?"

Dammit, the cave was dark, okay? Stop alluding to that period of my life. I'm not proud of it.

Of course, my side of that exchange was unheard by the guard, because I didn't include him in it. So he ended up thinking Gandalf was a senile schizoid. Which was actually really good for him in the long run, because while everyone else had to disarm themselves, he got to keep his magic staff. The guards were too afraid that he would go into some sort of schizophrenic attack if they took away his stick.

They entered the castle, and were immediately tailed by a bunch of grungy-looking people. They look kinda like your drinking buddies or something, Aragorn. I bet they don't bathe much eith—EWWW! It's him!!! Gross! The one toady in the world who kisses more ass than Sam! Fucking sycophant!

"Why should I welcome you?" the king questioned Gandalf, apparently in response to something the wizard said that I missed entirely because I was too absorbed by the aura of ugliness that only Grima Wormtongue could exude.

"A just question, my liege," Wormtongue said with false sincerity spread thickly, like really noxious butter.

Ew! I just can't stand professional head-nodders. Snipe him, Gandalf, snipe him!

"I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm."

Oookay, not quite the scathing retort I would've gone for, butI like theuse of alliteration at the end, there.

"His staff!" Grima freaked, "Someone was supposed to get his staff!"

The guards immediately tripped over themselves, trying to get at Gandalf's staff. Our heroes, of course, can't let that happen, so they fought the guards off, and the ever-familiar scene of a scuffle broke out.

Hey, congratulations, Aragorn! And Legolas, you too! You guys managed to be in a populated region for all of ten whole minutes before getting into a brawl! This must be some sort of record!

Needless to say, the guards were all beaten off, because they really didn't stand a chance. Between Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, they had more fighting experience than all of those guards put together. The funny thing is, most of that fighting experience came from fighting amongst each other.

Gandalf, meanwhile, was busying himself with exorcising King Theoden. Saruman was using him like a metaphorical puppet, so Gandalf had to get Saruman's metaphorical hand out of Theoden's metaphorical ass. He struck forward with his staff.

"You will never succeed! I am stronger than you!"

Gandalf ignored him and struck again.

"If I go, Theoden dies!"

Gandalf muttered something and continued.

"Rohan is mine!"

Again, Gandalf, simply continued.

Seeing that none of his taunts were actually working, Saruman began to get personal. "You stole my stick!"

No answer, just another strike with said stick.

"And my clothes!"

::THWACK::

"Ow!!!"

One could practically see Saruman's hand flying out from up Theoden's ass. It was really impressive. It almost made me start to sort of respect Gandalf's ability.

Theoden slumped in his throne, presumably exhausted from the whole ordeal. A really hot girl ran into the room and took his hand in hers.

Wait, that's not his wife, is it?!?!

"That is Eowyn, his niece," Gandalf informed me.

Oh. Is she single?

He ignored me.

Eowyn laughed with delight to find that her uncle had free will once more.

Here's how you can tell Theoden's really a good person: first thing he does as a being with free will is throw Grima Wormtongue out. Like, literally. He found two guards who weren't knocked unconscious by Aragorn and Legolas, and he got them to toss the fucker out the door.

"But I've only ever served you, my Lord!" he cried, stringy hair hanging in his grovelling face.

The king roared, grabbed his sword, and made for Wormtongue.

I say you stab him.

He looked up at the sound of my voice. "What the hell was that???"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TBC

ps- I'm kinda disappointed with how this chapter turned out. I hate to put up a mediocre chapter when the last one was really good, because then it's just even worse in comparison. Oh well. I could've done worse. ::eyes chapter eight:: I have done worse. I swear on my left arm that the next one will be better. Promise.


	11. Things that Happened at Edoras

A/N: Sorry guys, I meant to update waaaaay before this, but I got horribly sick and could barely drag myself out of bed, and then I was blindsided by tests and homework the second I got better. The last few weeks have just been hellish. I wrote a lot in my notebook, but it's all in messy short-hand, which I shall have to decipher and type up for future chapters.

Disclaimers: The shortness of my author's note was a complete and unexpected anomaly, breaking every rule of physics known to man! As a result, the Earth has been plunged into a different dimension, and in this new universe of untold possibility, I **DO** own "Lord of the Rings"! Mwahahahahaha!

Chapter 11: Things that Happened at Edoras -

"What the hell was that?" The King demanded, looking around every which way. (Wormtongue took quick advantage of this momentary distraction and quickly scrambled off with his head intact.) (The peasants all spat on him as he crawled past.)

Well, this is gonna be an awkward one to explain... Your Majesty, I am, shall we say...a, um, supernatural being of sorts, and I'm here...that is to say, I'm not _here_ here, I'm just kind of here. I'm-okay, how do I say this without you killing me? Help me out here, Gandalf.

"That is the voice of the One Ring," he offered helpfully.

Great, Gandalf, that's how you get him to not kill me. You know how these people are! Mention the 'R' word, and they start frothing at the mouth.

"The Ring?" Theoden questioned with a gasp. "The One Ring with powers of evil so immense, they threaten to engulf us all and fling us into perpetual doom and terror?"

See!

"No," Gandalf corrected him gently, using his well-practiced 'Look at my tattered robes and long beard-I must be very old and wise!' voice. "The Ring has switched sides, for even it could not withstand the powers of good. It now fights with us, against its previous master Sauron."

Theoden looked doubtful, so Gandalf upped it a notch. Using his wisest, most venerable voice, a kind light twinkling in his eyes whilst he stroked his ancient beard, he said, "Surely you, King Theoden, must know that good invariably prevails."

Theoden cast a suspicious look around. "Well, Voice of the Ring, if what Gandalf says is true, then I welcome you as a friend...but if I found out that there has been any treachery on your part, then you are as surely dead as...as..."

As your son?

"What!"

"About that," Gandalf coughed. "I am sorry to tell you that Theodred died valiantly, while you were still under Saruman's spell. Come, I shall take you to his final resting place." With that, Gandalf led the grieving King away by the arm.

There was a pregnant pause.

"That was kind of in poor taste, Ring," Aragorn said with disapproval.

What?

"Dropping the news like that on the poor old man. Theodred was his only son. You could've at least been a little tactful."

Hey, whatever man. His son is dead, and I was just reporting the fact. Besides, it's not like I owe him anything. He was threatening me!

Legolas rolled his eyes and changed the subject. "Do you bear any news from your journey, Ring?"

Don't even ask. Frodo is a no-good, backstabbing, heartless, cruel, self-serving, spineless, monstrous little piece of shit, and I don't wanna talk about it. It'd be really, really nice if you guys could just defeat Sauron before we get to Mount Doom. That way, you can prove to the people that destroying evil doesn't necessarily involve destroying me.

Before anyone could reply to my suggestion, the King's yummy little hot toddy of a niece, Eowyn, rushed past, looking very motherly and concerned and holding onto the hands of two young children. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli followed them into the castle.

Eowyn sat the children down and fed them. Eventually, the King appeared, looking more composed now that he had time to mourn properly. "What is the meaning of this?" he questioned.

"The children were driven from their village by hordes of barbarians. The Wild Men are making their way across the Westfold, spreading terror and mayhem," Eowyn told him.

Oh, yeah, I remember seeing something like that for a few seconds. I was making a sort of wide, mental sweep of the general area, trying to find you guys, and I saw these huge flocks of pretty rough-looking people, burning and looting and plundering and pillaging and obliterating and raping...not necessarily in that order.

Theoden looked understandably alarmed by this revelation.

"This is only the beginning of the terror that Saruman will unleash upon your people. And now that he and Sauron have joined forces, you can expect much, much worse," Gandalf told him, because the dude wasn't stressed enough.

"What will you have me do?" he asked with a sigh.

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Gandalf hinted. Okay, I personally saw, like, fifty horsemen the last time I checked. Aragorn will verify this for me. There were only around fifty, right?

Everyone ignored me. Same old, same old.

"I will not risk open war," Theoden said firmly.

Oh, man, then you have really met up with the wrong group of people. There is nothing that Aragorn and company love more than fighting. Don't even try to deny them their favourite sport.

"You must make a stand," Aragorn said equally firmly.

See? What'd I tell you?

"You must stand and fight for your people, or else all will be lost."

Actually, I agree with you, Strider. Saruman's forces are getting way too confident, because everywhere they go, they get victory. You need to give them some resistance, win a few small battles, give them a few good blows to their egos. If you let them keep believing they're invincible, they'll start to get too strong, and then they really will be infallible.

The thing Aragorn and I forgot to consider was that Theoden had just spent the last few months being told what to do by Saruman. He only recently regained power over himself. He really, really didn't feel like being told what to do again. "When last I looked, Theoden, not Aragorn nor some little Ring, was the King of Rohan."

Whoa there, no need to get all testy. It was just a friendly suggestion from a guy who's seen more wars and knows more about Sauron than you could even begin to imagine.

Theoden sniffed condescendingly. "We will evacuate the city and head for the safe fortress of Helm's Deep," he decided.

Orders to start packing were immediately sent out, and the King left Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli to their own devices.

"This is a mistake," Aragorn said ominously. Legolas, of course, agreed with his man. Gimli didn't have much of an opinion, because, y'know, you need some minimal intelligence in order to develop an opinion.

"He is only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Gandalf said, trying to be reasonable.

They're screwed, aren't they? It's either fight or die.

"Yeah." Gandalf paused. "I shall have to find Eomer's men and rally the troops myself." He sighed. "An old man's work is never done." He made his way to the royal stables, with Aragorn following close behind.

"You mean we will fight anyway? Against the King's word?" he asked excitedly.

"I'm sure it will come to that very shortly. Saruman will not relent, and neither will you, I expect; with such pressure from both sides, Theoden will give in and declare war." Gandalf fixed Aragorn with a serious look. "The war will not be pretty. King Theoden will need all the man-power he can get, and he will need your help most of all."

Aragorn nodded heroically.

Gandalf climbed onto his horse and said, "I shall find the Riders of Rohan, have no doubt."

I swear, man, there are only 50 of them.

Gandalf ignored me and rode out.

Hey, whatever, you're the magician.

Aragorn exited the stables and reconvened with the King. They talked strategy for a while, and then Aragorn said, "Ring, do you suppose you could locate Saruman for us, and tell us what he's planning next?"

For sure. It might take a while, because he's probably hiding out in some Super Secret Lair. I'll get back to you in a few hours, okay?

"Are you sure the Ring's information will be...trustworthy?" Theoden asked, his voice laced with implication.

Dude, why the hell would I lie? Didn't you hear? I'm not on Saruman's side, because I have a lesser chance of being killed if I'm on your side. I'm not gonna screw my own self over.

"Well. We shall see," Theoden said haughtily.

Legolas rolled his eyes (he knew he could do haughty so much better) and bid me farewell.

It actually didn't take me very long to find Saruman. My powers of deduction are so sharp that I quickly figured out that Grima Wormtongue had probably gone crawling to his boss right away. I just had to find him, and he'd lead me right to Saruman. My plan worked out perfectly. I was right there, listening to Saruman dictate his plan.

"Send out the Warg-riders!" Saruman commanded.

Oh. Shit. They have Warg-riders! This could get ugly.

"What could?" Frodo-the-Heartless-Rat asked, breaking my concentration. My mind snapped back to our current situation. We were now in some bushes.

Why are we in bushes?

"We heard a noise and went to investigate. Look below; another large army is advancing. Now answer my question. What could get ugly?"

Rohan'sbeing evacuated, and Saruman's sending out Warg-riders to attack the people when-what the fuck was that?

More arrows flew over our heads and into the army below us. Frodo whipped around to face the forest behind us. A small group of what looked like Robin Hood's Merry Men were shooting vigorously, if pathetically, at the giant army.

Hey, I think they're resistance fighters. Maybe we should get out of here, before-never mind.

Even as I spoke, we were captured by the Merry Men.

Dude, I really, really don't have time for this. I've gotta go warn Aragorn before the Wargs get them!

The leader of the Merry Men ignored me, and said "Bind their hands."

No! You don't understand! I have to warn them!

-TBC

ps- Just a little heads up as to the future of the story. It's gonna get a whole lot more dramatic. Everybody's characters get a little more emotional, as they get more and more stressed out. And Al's character gets to develop more, with the introduction of Faramir. Al gets to exhibit more emotions, too, other than snarky and angry. There'll be even more Aragorn/Legolas/Al interaction, and just general all-around drama, for those of you who like that sort of thing. :)


	12. Wargs and Faramir

A/N: Hey everyone! How are you all doing? It's my birthday this Thursday! And I want gifts! It doesn't have to be big or expensive—I just want reviews, especially from those of you who don't normally review. That'd be really nice, and it would put an awfully big smile on my face. Also, my spring break is starting, so I'm thinking of typing up a few chapters during my holiday and maybe updating more. I know I've said that before, but I'm actually going to try this time. No, really. I am. I'd also like to welcome a new Al fan, "Prophet-Song", who made it through all of Part I and the eleven chapters of Part II. And to answer your question about Al's final fate...well, I can't give anything away, but trust me on this: you'll like it.

Disclaimers: I don't own "Lord of the Rings". Obviously. (Please, please, PLEASE tell me that not one of you is surprised. Please. I have to believe that mankind still possesses some facet of mental ability, however small.)

Chapter 12: Wargs and Faramir . . .

No, honestly, you have to let us go! This is a matter of national security! People are going to be literally eaten! Is that what you want? To have people **EATEN**?

The one who seemed to be the leader of the group turned around and narrowed his eyes. "Be quiet," he ordered. And then he told one of the men to gag Frodo and Sam.

Frodo muttered dark death threats, all directed towards me, but they were too muffled to be understood. We were heaved onto the shoulders of some of the Merry Men, and they trudged along. After a while, I decided that I didn't really need to be there. It didn't seem to be too huge of an emergency. I mean, until they decided to kill us. But until then, I could easily concentrate a large part of my intelligence on something else.

I quickly found the posse of peasants led by our heroes.

Hey, Aragorn! I've got some really, really important news. You guys better head for the nearest cover, and get ready to fight, because Saruman is sending some serious firepower your way.

"Such as?" Aragorn asked, already salivating at the thought of a good fight.

Have you heard of Wargs? They're like hyenas, only they're bigger and more demented and they have armed Orcs on their backs. And they're coming for you. Like, right now.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli exchanged a few looks, but before anything could be done, King Theoden interrupted.

"How do we know we can trust the word of this Ring? How do we know it is not simply giving a false report, in order to slow us down? Perhaps our attackers are behind us, and are having trouble catching up, so the Ring is attempting to delay us in order to give them time to reach us."

Um, yeah. Okay. You go ahead and think that, your Majesty. Legolas? You totally need to go check it out.

Legolas agreed, and rode ahead in a flurry of billowing blonde locks.

"I do not see any—" he paused and frowned. He bit his soft pink lip with his perfectly white teeth. He squinted. "There seems to be something coming at us from across the plains. I cannot quite make out what—" he paused again. "The Ring is right!" he gasped.

Ha! I told you!

He quickly rode back to the others. "The Warg-riders are coming. We must prepare ourselves!"

Theoden got in one look of incredulity before he was swept up in the tide of armed guards rushing forward. Just in time, too. The Wargs got there just as everyone got their swords out of their scabbards. Here we go.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were in the thick of it in no time. There was a lot of hacking, stabbing, and manly grunting. A lot of Orcs went down, but the Wargs were a bit trickier.

Say, there's an idea—horses with teeth and rabies. That way, they can keep fighting even without a rider. Wow, and they're good at fighting, too! That vicious bugger just completely totalled that guy!

"Whose side are you on?" Gimli snarled while swinging his axe.

Yours, most unfortunately.

"Then why don't ya keep yer mouth shut and stop admiring the enemy's steeds?"

Hey, just 'cause they're on the other side doesn't mean I can't like their Wargs. I mean, your horses are all magnificent and whatnot, but they're kinda boring, don't you think? They pretty much just all stand around with the same placid, "look at me I'm so pretty" look that Legolas always has. They need some fangs and claws. We should teach them how to roar, at least.

Gimli tried to glare at me, but I wasn't actually there, so he just ended up getting really distracted, and one of the Wargs that I was admiring snuck up on him. Legolas helped him out with it, and I zoomed out to survey the rest of the fight.

The men seemed to be winning, with no small thanks to my early warning. The fight seemed to be drawing to a close, with the majority of the Orcs either retreating or dying. I looked around for Aragorn. I couldn't find him.

I looked some more. Still no Aragorn.

I looked around for Legolas and Gimli.

Uh, guys? Dude, where are you?

I found Legolas, Gimli, and King Theoden, standing at the edge of a cliff, looking grim.

Guys? There's a small problem. Aragorn's missing.

"We know," Legolas said. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. "Some motherfucking Warg dragged him off this stupid fucking cliff, and now he's gone!"

Hey, I completely forgot that Legolas has quite the potty mouth when he's feeling emotionally unstable.

"No fucking shit!" With that, he actually did burst into tears. He sobbed a string of obscenities all directed to Orcs and their mothers.

Theoden stood there awkwardly. His men were all starting to pack up, so he clasped Legolas's shoulder and said, "Leave the dead," before walking away.

Legolas started crying anew, and looked like he was contemplating flinging himself off the cliff. And you thought _I_ was insensitive? What the hell was that! Come on, Legolas, don't cry. I'm pretty sure he's alive. If he had died, I would've felt him blinking out.

Legolas produced a perfumed lace handkerchief from thin air, shook it out, and delicately blew his nose. "Still alive? You mean he could be lying somewhere out there, injured and in pain? We must look for him! Ring, you must help me find him!"

At that exact moment, the Merry Men halted and dumped us onto the floor of a cave.

Sorry, stud-muffin, but I can't. I've got problems of my own right now. But I promise, he's definitely not dead. Don't worry about it, okay? He can take care of himself.

With that, I had to leave the scene of carnage and return to my current situation.

"Who are you?" a tall man, the leader, questioned.

"My name is Frodo Baggins, and I am a hobbit of the Shire," Frodo replied.

The man, who apparently didn't know what real bodyguards were supposed to look like, gestured at Sam and asked, "And he is your bodyguard?"

His stalker, I told him, an instant before Sam said "His gardener."

There was a pause. "I am Samwise Gamgee, his gardener," Sam reiterated.

Oh, is that what they're calling them now, I muttered.

The man frowned and glared at us for a little while. Finally, he asked, "What is that third voice I hear?"

"Um, it's kind of a long story," Frodo said.

"I shall hear it."

Frodo sighed. "Alright. Well, it all started way back when Sauron first took over the world. He wore a Ring, so for years everybody assumed that all his power came from that Ring. As the legend goes, whoever gets the Ring gets infinite power, but will succumb to evil. So, a few months ago, Gandalf the wizard told me that Sauron was getting ready to take over the world again, and we had to destroy the Ring before he could get it back. A party of nine set out from Rivendell on a mission to destroy it, but along the way, we found out that the Ring is in actuality not evil—"

"Well, we don't know that. I still think it's evil," Sam interrupted.

"The Ring is in actuality not evil," Frodo, bless his little heart, said firmly, "which put us in an interesting position. Destroying the Ring will obviously not stop Sauron's power, because it doesn't come from the Ring in the first place. However, not destroying the Ring will have adverse effects on the peoples' morale, because everyone thinks it must be destroyed. That is why you found us on the way to Mount Doom. If we cannot think of a solution before we reach it, I am afraid that we shall have no choice but to destroy the Ring. And that third voice you keep hearing? That is the voice ot the Ring itself."

Hi. Call me Al.

The man looked horrified. "The Ring is a living being? And you plan to destroy it even though it is not evil?"

"Only it I can't think of a plan," Frodo said helpfully.

"But surely your morals cannot allow an innocent to die for something that is not his fault!"

FINALLY! Thank god, there is finally a voice of reason here, someone with a sense of justice, someone with a little logic! I love you, man! What's your name?

"I am Faramir of Gondor, son of the Steward of Gondor and brother of Boromir."

We all gave a little start at that, and Faramir homed in on it.

"You know Boromir? You are friends of his?" Faramir asked, his voice strangely intense.

Uh, noooooo—

"Yes," Frodo said quickly, eyeing the way Faramir was starting to pace around and play with his sword handle.

Faramir whirled around and fixed us with slightly wild eyes. "Good! Then perhaps you can tell me why my brother is DEAD!"

Yeah, I know, isn't it great? He was kinda annoying, and—shit. I mean…uh…I'm really sorry for your loss, Faramir, brother of Boromir. Boromir died defending our friends from Orcs. It was a valiant death. He was a true hero. Really.

Faramir nodded and began to leave the room. His eyes looked a little wet. "Go put them in some room or something. I whatever. I need to get some air," he said to the nearest Merry Man before hurrying out.

The Man nodded, and shoved us roughly into some other cavern. Frodo and Sam sat down, unsure what to do.

Hey, let me down, will you? I'm gonna go talk to Faramir; maybe we can come up with a plan.

"No way," Frodo said. "He is grieving for his brother right now. We must let him be."

"Yeah, and how do we know you won't run away?" Sam chimed in.

Yeah, we're in the middle of nowhere, in a cave full of armed burly men, and outside said cave are a gazillion more armed burly men. Even if I were stupid enough to run, I'm about the size of a large coin, and I'll undoubtedly be stepped on before I could get anywhere. Just let me down, okay? I'll keep Faramir company; I'll make sure he doesn't do anything drastic, like off himself or something. Ew, can you imagine killing yourself over Boromir?

"Ring!"

Sorry. I mean, I'll be way more respectful, and say nice things to comfort him and whatnot. Let me go, okay? Lemmegolemmegolemmegolemmegolemmegolemmegolemmegolemmego!

Frodo sighed and slipped me off of his chain. He set me on the ground and said, "I'm doing this against my better judgement, Ring. Do not make me regret it."

Bullshit. You're doing it because you feel guilty about what you said earlier, and you're hoping this will make up for it. It won't, of course, but feel free to keep trying.

And with that, I rolled off into the night, looking for Faramir.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .TBC


	13. Short, sucky chapter

A/N: Ha. You know what? I'm gonna stop embarrassing myself, and stop making promises about when the next update will be. Honestly. Because this is just sad. I'll have you know, however, that the lack of updates is totally not my fault. Two words: International Baccalaureate. This program is killing me. It's really challenging, and I really do like it very much, but I have two 4000-word essays, several French papers, plus a huge science project all in this month. My brain took a look at the workload and pissed its pants. Writing this fic really helps me relax when I'm too stressed, and gives me some down time to not think about schoolwork at all. And all you readers and reviewers? You keep me going, and for that I thank you.

Disclaimers: I am alive. J.R.R. Tolkein is dead. Make the connection yourself.

Chapter 13: Faramir vs. Gollum . . .

I found Faramir sitting outside, all alone in the dark and sobbing pitifully.

I steeled myself against the urge to say crushingly mean things, however tempting. Remember, Al, you want the guy to be on your side. You want him to help you. Dissing his dead brother won't get you anywhere, okay? The key here is white lies.

Hey, Faramir. How are you holdin' up?

Faramir wiped his eyes quickly. He looked around. "Who was that?"

Down here, chap. It's me, Al, the Ring. How are you doing?

Faramir let out a long sigh. "I am trying to get over the shock of this news. I simply cannot believe he's gone! Why, it seems like just yesterday, when we were out sparring, and he was teaching me new tricks with the sword. He was always so good at teaching..." he trailed off, and his lower lip trembled. He blinked furiously, and made several valiant attempts at not crying.

"Oh, Boromir!" He failed in his attempts and began sobbing again. "He wasn't always the best brother, but I never felt as though I couldn't count on him for the really important things."

I sat there awkwardly, letting him just vent. It was kinda weird, hearing someone say really nice things about Boromir, as opposed to the opposite. I figured he just needed to work it out before he came to terms with his grief. So I sat there, listening and listening and making the occasional sympathetic and/or empathetic noise. Who knew a person could have so many good things to say about Boromir? Faramir went on for hours, until I started to suspect he was making some of it up.

Finally, **thankfully**, he stopped. He gave one last sniffle, one last sigh, and just...stopped.

"I really must thank you, Ring, for being my audience. I needed someone to help me through these dark hours, and you were there for me. I shan't forget it."

Ah, well. You know. It wasn't all that hard. You just needed a shoulder to cry on and whatnot, and I'm glad I happened to be there. (Which, by the way, was totally not true. It was all that hard, sitting through endless hours of Boromir-worship and not gagging. But the guy was starting to like me now. Why blow my chances with something as petty as honesty?)

"I shan't forget it," Faramir repeated, firmly.

That's very nice of you, I told him. I didn't mind being your sounding board tonight, man. I've got to tell you, it's kinda nice to listen to someone else for once. Frodo gets tiresome really quickly, if you know what I mean. He's all death and doom and burden and blah blah blah, real heavy melodramatic angst stuff. He makes me feel a billion years older than I already am. And Sam never shuts up about how I'm evil and how I'm gonna kill them all in their sleep, even though he knows perfectly well that's not true. But even those two put together are better than that fucking Gollum, who—

"Wait. Who?"

Gollum. That little gobshite who's been following us around for the past few weeks? You can't have missed him; he's really ugly, not to mention almost naked.

"So I was right! There was another one of you! I thought I was merely seeing things, and then I convinced myself that the third person I imagined was actually you. But there is another?"

And right then, I saw the answer to my problems. Or, the answer to some of them, at least. Some of the many. If Faramir really meant what he said about owing me one, this could work out really, really well for me.

Oh, there's another, alright, I told him conversationally. And he is bad news.

"Really?" Faramir asked, intrigued. Thoughts of the dead Boromir were disappearing from his mind already, their place taken by the potential of a really gory fight. Men are all alike.

Yeah. He's been hanging around with us ever since we started travelling alone, without any armed warriors to keep us safe. That, in itself, is a little suspicious already. Then, he keeps insinuating that Frodo should give me to him. Plus, he keeps playing on Frodo's goodwill. The boy is just way too nice to random waifs, and Gollum is using that to his advantage, getting closer and closer when Frodo's guard isn't up. In fact, the only thing Sam and I ever agree on is that Gollum has to go. The wretch is planning something. I can feel it. Something involving ring-napping, and probably murder, too.

The really disturbing thing was, as I told Faramir all this, I realized I wasn't even making any of it up. Gollum probably really had something bigger than his raving-lunatic-desperate-to-have-The-Ring act up his non-existent sleeve. Creeeeeee-eeeeepy.

Faramir quickly ordered one of his men to be on the look out for a creature that looked like Gollum. Less than a minute later, the man came back and said, "Sire, we have located it. It is in the Forbidden Pool."

Faramir frowned. "The punishment for entering the Pool is death!"

Instead of dwelling on why the hell they would deem some random pool in the middle of nowhere as forbidden, I seized the opportunity and forged on.

Don't you realize? This is a perfect excuse?

"A perfect excuse for what?"

Lord, they make them bloodthirsty, but they sure don't make them smart, do they? It's a perfect excuse to get rid of Gollum, you dumb-ass?

Faramir glared at me for the 'dumb-ass', but he replied, "You mean, an excuse to kill him?"

No, I mean an excuse to invite him to a spot of afternoon tea. What do you think?

"I think I should inform young Frodo of this new development," he said, totally out of the blue. "I like you, Rin—Al," he said, giving me a look. He was so earning brownie points for using my name. "Even if you are turning out to be more of a smart aleck than I initially thought you were. I really do like you, but I'm also not a complete idiot. I've heard your side of it, but I have no plans on killing someone without at least hearing the other side. Frodo shall come along with us, and we shall see about getting this creature out of the Forbidden Pool."

Dammit. Okay, so Faramir's smarter than his brother. Which, granted, isn't a huge feat, but right then, it kind of threw a wrench into things.

We went back into the cave and roused Frodo from his slumber. Wow, you two must be really tired. You're all alone in a little cavern, and Sam isn't trying to rape you at all!

Frodo coughed, and hastily snatched me back up.

Whoa, easy on the goods there, I warned him as he slid me back onto his chain.

"I trust that the Ring hasn't been bothering you too, much, sir?" Frodo asked Faramir with his wide and guileless eyes. He really has got to stop using those eyes as weapons.

"No, not at all," Faramir replied lightly. "I quite enjoyed his company, actually."

And I, in turn, enjoyed _his _company, which is a lot more than I can say of your company of late, Frodo.

Faramire cut the tension before it could escalate into a fight about who was right and who was trying to murder a perfectly innocent being just because it would be the easier thing to do.

"Mr. Baggins? Please, step outside with me, if you will?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC


	14. Three Cheers for Faramir

A/N: First off, a little piece of advice to any budding young scholars out there who may be reading this—get yourself a day planner. Not a fancy electronic one or anything, just a notebook with all the days of the week neatly separated into little blocks, with a calendar for every month and plenty of room for you to write things in. That day planner will be your one and only link to sanity, should you ever be struck with dementia such as mine and decide to take full IB or AP courses. In other news, Chaosti is the coolest person ever. I put "short, sucky chapter" as the name of the last chapter on the purple scrolly thing—it wasn't really the official name, and I didn't even think anyone would notice. But notice she did, and she fiercely defended Al's honour. She wants it known that the chapter was not sucky. She makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And I'd also like to give a big hug to frodofreak88, just because.

Disclaimers: Eye dew naught own enny ov the Lord ov the Rings karakturrs.

Chapter 14: Three Cheers for Faramir . . .

The three of us picked our way across rocky precipices while Faramir explained to Frodo just what the deal was.

"You have not been entirely truthful with me," he started. "There is another in your party, a creature whom Al does not believe to be trustworthy."

"A creature? Oh, that's just Gollum. He is simply our guide."

Faramir raised a suspicious eyebrow. "The Ring implies that he could be a spy, someone who will sell his secrets to Saruman. He has entered the Forbidden Pool, Frodo. The punishment for that is death."

"You're going to kill him for entering a _pool?_!" Frodo asked, apparently finding this whole 'forbidden pool' shit as senseless as I did.

"It is a forbidden pool," Faramir replied coolly. "It will also give us an excuse to execute this Gollum, should the need arise."

"But you can't kill him!" Frodo objected. "He's perfectly harmless!"

Oh, like that's ever stopped you from trying to kill someone, I pointed out nastily.

A tense silence followed my words. Frodo struggled with his emotions, Faramir cleared his throat awkwardly a few times, and I fumed quietly. We got to the pool in question, and Faramir cleared his throat once more.

"My men are ready. They await my signal. Shall I tell them to shoot?"

I looked around. There were about a dozen archers lurking in the bushes, aiming their arrows at Gollum. Dude. There's probably no one on the planet who wants to see him dead more than I do, but even I think twelve archers to shoot one naked guy is kinda overkill.

Frodo struggled with his emotions some more.

Okay, look. We seriously, seriously have to kill Gollum. Seriously. Even if I put all my personal biases aside, we still have to kill him. Because the guy is psycho, okay? He will turn on us the second an opportunity comes up. One day, he will stab you and Sam in your sleep, grab me, and run. He will run straight to Saruman, and he will report everything he knows about all of our friends, and that will be that. The war will be over before it even starts. I know Gollum, okay? I know him. He will do that.

Frodo sighed. "Perhaps you're right, Ring."

Faramir raised his hand to give the signal.

"But wait!"

No! No waiting!

Frodo looked pained. "I cannot just let him die! Don't you understand? I am responsible for him. I cannot allow this to happen. He came to us a wretched, pathetic thing, and we would have killed him right away, had I not felt so much pity for him. We made a deal: he was to guide us, and we were to spare him. He has been keeping his part of the deal, and so I must keep mine."

Faramir lowered his hand.

I. Cannot. Believe this. Frodo, you have got to be—

"No, Ring," he interrupted me. "Hear me out. I was wrong before, okay? And I realize that no amount of apologies could ever make up for that fact that I betrayed you, but I am truly sorry. I was selfish and foolish, to think that killing you was the answer. Killing people simply to suit my own wishes isn't me. It isn't who I am. If I cannot bear allowing Gollum to die, even though I know he may be dangerous, how could I ever bear letting you die? Especially since, in my heart of hearts, I really do believe you are innocent."

Well, shit. That was unexpected.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me. But please, believe me when I say that I feel horrible about what I have done. I will never even consider flinging you into the Mountain of Fire again. Never."

Okay, okay, I believe you. You can knock it off with the puppy dog eyes now. I'm even slightly mollified by your apology. I knew you'd come around—killing people really _isn't _you. But dude, I'm totally serious here. Even your super-sincere apology can't change the fact that Gollum has to go.

Frodo sighed. "There are ways that we could get rid of him without killing him."

No, there really aren't.

"Faramir," he turned to aim his killer 'pity-me' eyes onto the Man. "Please, don't hurt him. Let me go to him. I shall coax him out of the pool, and then we can figure out what to do." He widened his eyes and pouted a little. Poor Faramir didn't stand a chance.

"Very well." He allowed Frodo to clamber down into the Forbidden Pool (which was obviously not all that forbidden, because no one said anything about killing Frooooodo, no).

Frodo got Gollum to crawl out of the pool, but as they were climbing up, some Merry Men appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Gollum.

"Hey! What are you—"

I looked up to see Faramir standing there with a grim look on his face.

"I'm sorry, Frodo. I thought about what the Ring said, and decided that I could not afford to take the risk. The creature knows where my troops are; if he is allied with Saruman, my men would be in danger. I have no other choice but to take him as prisoner." So saying, his men gagged Gollum and covered his head with a burlap sack.

Smart man, I congratulated him.

Frodo glared at him with a mixture of shock, anger, and betrayal.

Hey, at least they aren't killing him, right?

"Yet. We do have to question him first."

Ooh, I am liking this guy more and more!

Faramir dropped us off in the cavern where Sam was still sleeping, and then went off to conduct his questioning.

We sat in the dark, not saying anything.

"Mr. Frodo?"

Ah, the fucktard awakens.

"Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered, crawling towards us from where he was sleeping.

Frodo eyed him warily. "Sam, what have we talked about? You have your own safety bubble, and I have mine, okay? And we have to stay out of each other's bubbles."

"Never mind that, Mr. Frodo. We have to get out of here!"

"What do you mean?"

"We can't stay here! We don't really know what these men are up to, do we? Who knows what they are planning. We have to escape."

"And how would we do that?" Frodo asked, humouring him.

"Use the Ring!" Sam replied. "If you put on the Ring, you'll disappear."

Oh, so it's okay to use me, but not to trust me? What the fuck is wrong with you, Sam? You can't even be consistent in your argument. Besides, how would Frodo disappearing help the both of you escape? Because there is no way in hell I'm gonna exert myself and try to make you invisible too.

Sam looked indignant, but Frodo spoke up before he could say anything. "Sam, just drop it, okay? I am not using the Ring. It makes me feel…funny."

Funny, how? Like, aroused, funny? A tingling in your bathing suit area funny?

"No," Frodo said, rolling his eyes. "Funny, as though I'm being watched."

Oh. Then you should probably know that the closer we are to Sauron in terms of physical proximity, the likelier it is that he'll be able to see you when you put me on. Since, I am tied to my creator and all.

"Well, it's final, then. We won't use the Ring, because we cannot risk being seen by Sauron."

Sam couldn't really argue with that, so he shut up. The three of us sat there in the dark, silent except for Sam's heavy breathing. Just when it was starting to get a little too creepy, Faramir came in.

"Gentlemen. I have news," he announced, grimly. "My troops and I must leave, immediately, which leaves us with the question of what to do with you. I was originally planning to take some men with me and accompany you at least partway through your journey, but that plan must now be forsaken. Our city of Osgiliath is in danger, and all soldiers are needed to defend her."

Well, duh. Pulling troops from Osgiliath wasn't the brightest move, what with it being the closest city to the Black Gate and all. Easterlings and Southrons and Orcs are being gathered, like, five miles away, and instead of doubling security there, you remove some? That's real smart. Plus, the river runs right through the middle of Osgiliath, which makes it even more vulnerable. On top of all that, Gondor's fuckin' sandwiched between Isengard and Mordor. Osgiliath is so going down. You, my friend, are fucked. Not to mention the fact that you definitely need to hire yourself a new sergeant.

Faramir stared at me. "How…how do you know that?"

Know what? That whoever the hell you hired really blows at strategizing? I'd say that's pretty obvious, if you look at how things stand right now.

"No. How do you know all of that information? About Gondor, and our troops, and Sauron's troops?"

Hello? I'm all-seeing?

Faramir bit his lip. You could practically see the little gears churning in his head. And suddenly, I saw a way out. It wasn't exactly a permanent solution, but it would prolong my life a little, and maybe give Frodo and me some more time to think of a plan. Faramir just needed a little bit of an incentive, and he'd play right into my scheme.

"Your omniscient abilities certainly seem…handy."

Yeah, well, y'know. The king of Rohan sure thinks so.

"You're helping Rohan?"

I didn't answer.

"Gondor needs help, too…"

Again, no answer.

Faramir squared his shoulders decisively. "You shall not be continuing your journey to Mordor. The Ring comes with us to Gondor."

YES!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC


	15. Chaosti's Special Birthday Chapter

A/N: Big thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are all just awesome. I swear, I must have the best readers in the world; you put up with all of my not-updating-for-a-long-ass-time crap, and you still review. I wanna let everybody know two things. Firstly, it might be a long time until my next update, and I'm all kinds of sorry, but my final exams are coming up. Hopefully, I'll get to update before July, but you never know. Secondly, and more importantly, I'm officially designating this chapter Chaosti's Special Birthday Chapter. Wish her a happy birthday, because she's the girl who keeps me on track with this story. Without her, I'd still be on, like, the fifth chapter of part one.

Disclaimers: Don't even try to sue me, because Chaosti will have your head and you know it.

Chapter 15: Aragorn Is Also Not Dead . . .

We set out bright and early the next morning, our bags packed and ready, the rogue soldiers neatly lined up in their ranks.

Wait, wait, waitaminute...we're _walking_ all the way to Osgiliath?

"Well, one of us is actually riding on another's neck all the way to Osgiliath, not walking," Frodo pointed out.

Yeah, but all those unbearable weeks spent in your company were all in vain? All those miles we travelled, with not one, but **two** borderline rapists—all that hard work, down the drain.

"You are the one who wants to go back, so would you please stop complaining?"

But going back over all the stupid rocks we strained so hard to clamber over would be like unravelling a tapestry thread by thread, right after finishing it!

"You know, Ring," Frodo said conversationally. "It really is getting harder and harder to keep my resolution to be nicer to you."

So? Who needs you, anyway? Faramir is my new friend now.

"What are you, four years old?"

That's two years older than you! Oh, burn!

Frodo rolled his eyes. "Look, maybe you should go check on our friends. Make sure Aragorn is alright, or see if Merry and Pippin have gotten themselves killed yet. Whatever will keep you quiet and occupied."

Sure, change the subject when you've been bested in a round of verbal combat. But sure, I guess I'll drop in and see how Legolas is doing. He was in pretty rough shape the last time I saw him, what with the whole Aragorn thing and all.

"You do that."

I took my customary mental sweep of the land. I could see a distant swarm, and I suspected it was probably another one of Sauron's vast armies, but before I had the chance to go investigate it, my attention was pulled to Helm's Deep.

"NO! FUCK OFF! I don't have to fucking go if I don't fucking feel like it!"

Is that...Legolas...?

Eowyn looked up at the sound of my voice. "Yes, it's Legolas. He's been inconsolable about Aragorn since we got here. He's locked himself in the bathroom now, and he won't come out. My uncle and Gimli are trying their hand at coaxing him out."

That said, I was treated to the sight of King Theoden being bodily thrown out of the bathroom, with livid red scratch marks all over his face.

"He scratched me! A Prince of Mirkwood _scratched_ me!" He dusted himself off, then turned and yelled through the closed door, "Just you wait until your father hears about this!"

"FUCK YOU! And you too, bitch!" And with that, Gimli was also hurled out.

You guys suck at this whole 'coaxing' business, don't you?

Gimli's head snapped up. "Ring? Is that you? It is, isn't it? Get yer little ass in there and do something about the Elf, okay?"

And what if I don't? I asked Gimli tauntingly, mentally sticking my tongue out at him.

Theoden stopped him before he could splutter an indignant reply. "Please, Ring, we implore you. We know that you are a friend of Legolas. You would be able to coax him out of this foul temper. We beg you. Please."

"Yes, please," Eowyn joined in, her eyes attractively wide in a move that I thought Frodo had patented.

"We beg you! We cannot stand it no more! Night and day, Legolas is cursin' away, cursin' and cursin' at the top of his lungs, and if you try to stop it, he'll throw things at you. But I prefer the cursing over the crying. When he starts to cry, he wails away from dawn to dusk, and nothing you say can quiet him. And his moods shift so quietly, the people of the town don't feel safe walking around here. He has all of Helm's Deep in terror!" Gimli looked slightly desperate.

Alright, alright. I'll go talk to him. Not for you, though, Gimli, because you can suffer for all I care. I just feel sorry for Legolas.

I went into the bathroom, because ha, doors can't keep me out (and yes, that does have interesting voyeur potential, but no, even I'm not that much of a pervert. Usually).

Hey, Legolas. How're you doing?

"Fuck off," he said acidly, while brushing his hair furiously.

Um. Your hair is really shiny.

His hand paused mid-stroke. "Thank you," he said, also very acidly, but not quite as sharp as the first time.

So, what else have you been doing lately? Besides, uh, brushing.

"Oh, nothing," he said sweetly. "Just this." And with no further warning, he yanked open the door and hurled the brush at Gimli. It hit him full on the face and almost knocked him over. Legolas slammed the door again.

That's...great.

And then Legolas burst into tears. Just like that. You could here Gimli mutter "Oy, not again!" through the door, except it sounded kind of plugged up and wet, like Legolas had broken his nose or something.

Oh, come on, Legolas! Don't cry! I told you that your little fuck-bunny was still alive, didn't I? What are you crying about?

"I-I just—I m-m-miss him! So m-m-much! And I'm s-so worried! What if he's h-h-hurt? I—" He broke off, sobbing some more.

Oh, for—Legolas. Dude. Please. Pull yourself the fuck together. This is pathetic. Look, I'm gonna go look for him, right now, okay? I'm gonna make sure he's okay, and then I'm gonna tell him to hurry the fuck to Helm's Deep before you murder everyone in a blind rage. Okay? No, put that comb down. I'm not leaving until you put that comb down.

"But I need to comb my hair! Brushing de-tangles, but combing adds the shine," he insisted, quite sweetly again, all traces having cried gone from his voice.

That. Is really. Creepy. Okay, I'm gonna go, but only if you promise not to stab anyone with that comb.

Legolas promised, and I set out on my mission to find one little Ranger in the substantial surrounding countryside.

Come on, Strider, I muttered to myself. Do not be dead. Do not be dead or injured or amnesiac, and for god's sake do be hurrying to Helm's Deep. Your little lover's a few ships short of a full fleet on a good day, but he's gone totally spastic on us without you to keep him in line. Not to mention fully satisfied. Ew.

My eye caught something in the distance. That had better be the Ranger.

Aragorn! It is you! Wow, man, you look rough! You look worse than the horse, actually. And you kinda smell worse, too. But you're okay, right? Right!

Aragorn looked up tiredly. "Ring?"

Yeah. Hi. Still alive, as are Frodo and Sam. Not going to Mordor anymore. We met up with Faramir, who's Boromir's brother, and we're going on an adventure with him. Did you know Boromir had a brother? I didn't know that. His brother's really cool, which is totally unexpected. Maybe he's adopted. Or maybe Boromir was adopted. Do you know if Boromir was adopted?

Aragorn rubbed a grimy hand across his even grimier temple.

Man, I've seen you for all of five seconds, and I'm already giving you a headache. Things are already getting back to normal.

Aragorn grunted. In a manly fashion.

So, how are you? Where've you been?

"After the battle, I fell off a cliff and into the river. It carried me far, but by some lucky chance, I did not drown. I awoke and found this horse nearby. Since then, I have been riding day and night, toward Helm's Deep." He paused. "Is everything alright there?"

Yes. Well, not entirely. See, Legolas has been—

Aragorn sat bolt upright on his horse and interrupted me. "Legolas! What's the matter with Legolas? Is he alright?"

Yeah, yeah, calm down. He's alright, but he's scared that you're not alright, so consequently, everyone around him is not alright.

Aragorn squinted. "Run that by me again. Slowly."

Legolas is worried about you. Worried Legolas means neurotic Legolas. Usually, when Legolas is neurotic, you calm him down. But you're not there, so his neuroticism has been escalating, to the point where he now psychotic.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm familiar with that. I've seen it happen. A lot."

A lot? Oh my god, you need to get that elf fixed.

"I'm not unaware of that."

Okay, so you're going to Helm's Deep, right? You're gonna be there soon, right? Because Legolas is steadily moving past psychotic and into psychopathic, and the townsfolk are getting just a wee bit worried. If you don't get there soon, there might not be any townsfolk left.

"I'll be there soon," Aragorn assured me. "Before sundown today, if I can manage it."

Good. Great. Fantastic. I'll run and tell everyone.

"Send him my love!" Aragorn called after me.

Legolas! Legolas Legolas Legolas! Aragorn is fine!

"Oh, thank the Lord!" Eowyn, Theoden, Gimli, and three quarters of the city said in relief.

Legolas finally unlocked himself from the bathroom. "He is?"

He is, and he's trying his damnedest to get his ass here before the sundown tonight.

Legolas let out a happy squeal. "Come, Gimli! We must wait for him by the gates!" He dragged the dwarf off with him.

"Oh, thank you, Ring," Eowyn said with a cute smile.

No thanks necessary. I'm just doing my duty as a friend. Although, I wouldn't say no, if you ever wanted to repay me... I said suggestively.

"Uh. Right." Eowyn hurried off. Hey, there's no harm in trying to score. I'd just done a good deed. I deserved a little in return.

A little while later, a commotion at the front gates of the city alerted me to the fact that Aragorn was back.

"Sweet desire of my heart! I missed you so!" Legolas cried, running into Aragorn's outstretched arms.

"Oh, my darling soul's delight, I've missed you too—"

"Ew, you're _dirty_!" Legolas squealed, hurriedly stepping back out of Aragorn's arms. He eyed him up and down. "And bloodied! Oh, my love, are you hurt?" He ran back into his arms courageously, willing to brave the dirt for his love.

"Not seriously. I do have, however, news I must tell King Theoden." Aragorn started up the castle steps.

"What is it?" Gimli and Legolas both asked.

Aragorn turned to them with a twinkle in his eye.

Oh god, I know that look. It's the maniacal battle lust that only you three can embody.

"I must warn King Theoden to make ready for war.'

Legolas's and Gimli's eyes lit up with delight.

" I saw Isengard's army heading this way, with troops at least ten thousand strong."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC

ps- That went up without any editing, because I didn't have time to read it. I hope there aren't too many mistakes. And, one last time, Happy birfday, Chaosti!


	16. Preparing for Battles

A/N: My final exams are all finished now, and I did quite well, if I do say so myself. I got the highest marks in the grade for both English, Biology, and French, and I don't care if I sound horribly conceited as I flaunt this fact over and over and over. The important part about finals being over is that I'll have all summer to work on this fic. Updates should probably be a lot more frequent now, which is really good, because (as Chaosti has so kindly pointed out), this fic will have been up for a year come July 13. This fic has sixteen chapters. Sixteen chapters over a year is just sad, and I need to get a move on with updating it. Oh, I have to say hi to Anonyma, beore I forget. Welcome to the fold, and thank you so much for your kind comments. I can't believe you went and read all of Part I before reading this; I'd always hoped someone would do that, but I never thought anyone would. You don't know how happy you've made me.

Disclaimers: If I owned "Lord of the Rings" and all associated rights and licences, I wouldn't have made Haldir die in a battle he wasn't even at.

Chapter 16: Preparing for Battles . . .

Aragorn went into the king's castle, and Theoden saw him immediately. After the requisite manly handshakes and masculine pats on the back were exchanged, Aragorn got down to business.

"My liege, we must prepare for battle," he said, with that freaky, yay-I-get-to-kill-soon glow in his eyes.

Theoden, unaccustomed to presumed-dead people just waltzing into his great hall and ordering him to go prepare for battle, stood there and looked confused. He looked around his court for some sort of explanation. None was forthcoming.

"An army of Uruk-hai is being amassed," Aragorn clarified excitedly. "All Isengard is emptied, to make an army over ten thousand strong and for a single purpose: to destroy the world of Men. I saw them as I rode here. They shall be here come nightfall."

Oh, will they? Is that why I kept on seeing a bunch of troops scattered throughout the landscape?

The king growled. "A great help you are, Ring. Your job is to provide us with insider information, and yet Aragorn comes back from the dead to tell us of invading Uruks before you even mention thousand-strong troops."

Oh sure, blame me. Like I haven't been busy trying to stay alive, too busy to go check out every single rumour of Saruman's activities for your pleasure. This is the first time I've even had the chance to take a look around, and the first thing you nail me with is 'go find Aragorn before Legolas loses what little he had before and kills us all', so I was kind of focussed on just finding Aragorn, okay? I saw armies, but it's not like I could've stopped and asked around when Legolas was about to turn psycho. At least I got the Elf calmed down for you. Isn't that something? Isn't that enough? Can't I get some fucking **gratitude** every now and then?

My tirade was, of course, completely ignored. "The entrances shall have to be barricaded. Women and children must be sent to the caves, and all available manpower must be put on a strict rotation of patrol and sentry duty." Theoden continued talking about battle plans as he and Aragorn wandered out of the castle in a cloud of battle-anticipating bliss.

Whoa there, guys. Hang on. Your plan is to bar the doors and have a bunch of armed men walk around? What do you think this is, a Dwarf invasion? Your dinky little army won't stand a chance against the Uruk-hai!

"Helm's Deep is an impenetrable fortress. We have fought and won countless battles here before, and we shall continue to do so," Theoden said with cold arrogance.

Okay, first of all, your dinky little fortress won't stand a chance either. I mean, are you retarded? They're fucking Uruk-hai, okay, not garden gnomes. They're bad-ass, and there are over _ten thousand_ of them, and you're going down unless you can think of something to even the odds. And secondly, do not try that arrogance shit with me, because you may be a king, but I'm still the omnipresent magic ring who's a thousand years your elder and a million times your better.

"Helm's Deep is infallible," Theoden insisted stubbornly.

History has shown us time and time again that unsinkable ships sink, foolproof plans are foiled, and infallible fortress can and do fall. But hey, why listen to me? I'm only trying to use my millennium's worth of knowledge and experience to help you out here.

"No, the Ring is right," Aragorn cut in before the king could come up with yet another stick-up-the-ass reply. "You must call for aid."

"And who would we call?" Theoden asked. "Elves?" He looked at Legolas challengingly.

Legolas quickly shifted his eyes away.

"Dwarves?"

No, I don't see how calling the dwarves would help you.

"Gondor," Aragorn suggested, ever promoting the motherland.

"Gondor?" the king scoffed. "I may call, but Gondor will not answer. The old alliances are dead. Rohan stands alone," Theoden said, glaring at Aragorn like it was his fault that Rohan was a loser with no friends.

Aragorn glared right back, but he couldn't deny it, especially since every species in Middle Earth has thus far left Rohan to the wolves. Every species except the hobbits, maybe, and some minor ones that no one's heard of, and—hey. Hey!

"What, Ring?" Theoden ground out.

I think I might have an idea.

"Fantastic," the king muttered.

Enough with the attitude, okay! God. No need to further the uptight, snobby, absolute monarch stereotype. You've been nothing but a prick, and everyone's put up with it because they respect you, but I'm in the unique position of not having to respect you at all. I think you're a jerk, and I'm gonna tell you that right to your face, because your royalty doesn't impress me. At all. You just march your men around like they have no feelings, and you treat your subjects as a burden instead of a responsibility. You've been mean to Legolas even though it wasn't his fault he was sad, you've been rude to Aragorn even though he's trying to give you sound advice, and you've been a downright bastard to me when all I've been trying to do is help you.

"I apologize," Theoden said, not sounding particularly apologetic.

I wasn't. Fucking. Done. You interrupted my lecture, even though it was for your own good. I can see why Saruman and Grima had to put you under five billion spells—that was probably the only time you've ever listened to anyone but your incompetent self. You just never, ever listen, and I don't know why I even bother. I could just drop all this and walk away, but I won't. Do you know why? Because I'm better than that. I'm gonna help you anyway, even though you totally don't deserve it, because I want to help the people of Rohan. God knows they're miserable enough with you as their substandard king.

King Theoden's mouth turned into a thin, hard, embarrassed line, while Aragorn did his best to hide his smirk. "Your idea, Ring?" the Ranger asked.

Yeah. Okay. My idea. Well, I don't know how well it's going to work, because I'm pretty sure no one's ever done this sort of thing before, but if it works, you guys are gonna owe me an assing big favour.

"What is it?"

I can't tell you; I don't wanna get your hopes up. Go prepare for battle. Ignore stupid Theoden and call for backup anyway. That way, if my plan doesn't work, you'll at least be sort of semi-ready.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli nodded their agreement.

I quickly got my telepathic ass out of there and into the forests instead. I was in search of some hobbits.

"Look, Merry! What's that?"

"That's a tree, Pippin."

"Oh. Well, what's that then?"

"That's a tree too, Pippin."

"Oh. ...How about that? What's that over there?"

"That's—I don't know! How strange! What is that, Treebeard?"

"That, young master hobbit, is a poplar tree."

"Oh."

And yup, those would be the hobbits I was in search of. Boy, stupidity sure travels a long way through dry air.

Hey guys, what's up?

"AHH! Pippin, what's that!"

Treebeard rolled his considerably huge eyes. "That is the voice of the Ring, young masters. You do remember the Ring, don't you?"

I couldn't help laughing. God, those two had to be the only people who can get on a tree's nerves.

Hey, big guy. I have to talk to you about something really important.

Treebeard made some sort of creaky, groany sound that I assumed meant he was listening.

You hate evil, right? You hate the bad guys ragging on the poor little good guys? You hate Sauron and his megalomania, and you hate Saruman's clear-cutting practices? So how about you help score one for the team? A battle's about to go down at Helm's Deep, and we need all the help we can get. If you could round up a few of your Ent friends and bring them all down to Rohan, we'd really appreciate it. Please?

Treebeard frowned a wooden little frown. "We do not meddle in the wars of Men."

Yeah, well, it's kind of a bigger deal than just a silly little Man war. Pretty much the whole continent is in on it. We'd really, really like it if you meddled.

Merry and Pippin, who love few things more than meddling, joined in my plea. "If our friends need help, we must help!"

"Yeah! Come on, Treebeard. We can only defeat Sauron if we work together."

Treebeard stopped to think about it. "The decision is not for me alone. I must ask all the other Ents before I can give you an answer.

Entmoot. Such a gathering of Ents has not occurred for an age."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .TBC


	17. Still Preparing for Battle

A/N: I was going to update sooner than this, just so I could say "Oh look, an update in record time!" but I got busy. Guesswhatguesswhatguesswhatguesswhat? I GOT A JOB! I mean, a real job, something that has to do with what I wanna be when I grow up (graphic design). This awesome advertising company offered me a summer contract, and I'm so happy! It's not full-time, so I'll still have time to update, never you worry. But YAY! I'm so HAPPY! What also made me happy was all your reviews, my dear readers. I got a bunch for the last chapter, and I want to thank you all for your awesomeness. I especially want to thank Mel, also known as 'crazyroninchic' for being another person who went and read the fic from the beginning to now; I can't believe _two_ people did that in as many weeks. And Mel commented on my disclaimers, too! I'm actually very proud of my disclaimers, so I'm glad someone's noticed them.

Disclaimers: This piece of fanfiction is not meant to infringe upon, sidle up against, nor step on top of the rights of the dead author, the publishing companies to whom the rights were sold before or after the aforementioned death, or their subsidiaries, their pets, close relatives, distant relatives, and friends. Thank you.

Chapter 17: Still Preparing for Battles . . .

Treebeard took Merry and Pippin to a large clearing, where a bunch of Ents had started to gather. "This is a meeting of the Tree Herders. Many have come: poplar, oak, beech... We will all discuss the issue of this war you want us to join," Treebeard told me.

The Ents got down to business.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited, and dude, this is gonna take longer than I thought. I forgot to take into account that it takes half an hour for one of these guys to even groan out a whole sentence. Having a meeting could take _weeks_.

Uh, guys? I'm going to hop back to Helm's Deep and see if I can help them out, okay? You're obviously not going to come to a decision in time for that particular battle. I'm sure you can handle a big conference like this without my supervision, so I'm just gonna go.

I went back to Helm's Deep, where they were apparently implementing the draft.

Hey, Aragorn, how many soldiers have you guys scraped together? My idea's not gonna pan out in time for a battle tonight.

Aragorn swore creatively. "If we round up to the nearest hundred, we have around three hundred to fight against Saruman's ten thousand. Of those three hundred, about a hundred and fifty are not trained soldiers, but rather blacksmiths or bakers or carpenters or stable boys."

Legolas was nearby, looking distressed. "We cannot force these men to fight," he said.

"But we must, my darling, or Helm's Deep will fall," Aragorn explained gently.

Legolas was in no mood to take his 'gentle' crap. "You are sending them out to their doom!" he said, looking supremely pissed. "These men cannot fight! They are to frightened to even hold a sword steady! They will all perish out there!"

"Then I shall perish with them!" Aragorn replied, losing his patience. Which was a really, really bad idea, because now Legolas was pissed.

Legolas said something in Elvish about Aragorn's head and Aragorn's anal sphincter, then stalked off. The crowd of scared carpenters and stable boys quickly cleared a path for him.

Um, Aragorn? Want me to—

"Could you, please? Try to get him to understand that I do not want this either, but it must be done."

Oh, the things I do for you, without demanding payment or sexual favours in return...

I caught up to the little blonde whirlwind of violence and vitriol known as Legolas, and tried to calm him down.

Come on, Legolas, you know that this has to be done.

"But why? These "soldiers" are mere children, or men far too old to have such troubles put upon them. None of them deserve to die."

Well, see, here's the thing. If they don't go out and fight, the Uruk-Hai are gonna come over the walls and kill them all anyway. And then as a special bonus, the Uruks will destroy their possessions, rape their women, and enslave their children. This way, they'll at least go down fighting.

Legolas wiped his eyes quickly (and gracefully, of course).

Are you _crying_? Why are you crying? Why are you being so negative about this, anyway? Aren't you usually the one at the very front of the lines, wreaking hell and havoc?

"I just...it has not been very long since I thought I had lost Aragorn. I am not ready to lose him again."

Oh my god, you are such a **sap**!

Legolas glared, but didn't deny it.

God, Legolas, suck it up. People are actually gonna die in wars, believe it or not. Aragorn could, you could, and if we're really lucky, Gimli could. But you've still gotta fight. Holding a sword and doing some actual attacking on your own will probably keep you alive for longer than sitting around just waiting for the Uruk to swarm you.

"That is true..."

Of course it is. So take a deep breath, compose yourself, and get in there. And for god's sake, make up with Aragorn. If on the off chance one of you actually does die, do you want your last words together to have been "Your ass is so far up your rectal passage that the only light you see is coming down from your mouth"?

"I suppose not..."

Go find him, then. Oh, and when this night from hell is all over and done with, don't forget what I just did for you and how much you fucking owe me, okay? When everyone's all about throwing me into the Mountain of Fire, keep this moment in mind.

"I will," Legolas promised me before prancing off into the castle.

Night was beginning to fall, and the whole of Helm's Deep was twitching with nervous tension. Oh, but this was gonna be a loooooooooooooooooooong night. I followed Legolas into the armoury, where Aragorn was strapping on his chain mail while letting out manly grunts.

"Aragorn?"

He looked up.

"I apologize for my earlier outburst. I should never have doubted your ability to get us through this battle, as you have done so many times before. You know I would never run from a fight—"

_To_ a fight, maybe.

"—But I simply did not want to see you hurt. I am, however, ready to fight at your side."

"My dear heart and soul, you know that I forgive you completely," Aragorn said, putting his hand on Legolas's shoulder.

Aww, now kiss and make up. Whoa! No, I said _kiss_, not—that is more than just kissing. Stop it. Stop it! Boys, get yourselves under control right this minute. You have a battle to fight, and there is no time for that!

Legolas and Aragorn finally tore themselves away from each other when the sound of a horn cut through the air. Legolas gave a delicate little gasp. "That is no Orc horn!" They ran outside to check it out, but I beat them to it.

What the fuck are those Elves doing here?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC

A/N: What the fuck indeed. Those Elves certainly weren't there in the book... But, for the sake of continuity, I will stick with the movie's version of events, even if it means having to invent Haldir a whole part that he didn't have, and then killing him when he doesn't actually die.


	18. Battle at Helm's Deep

A/N: Hey, these updates have been getting decently regular, haven't they? At this rate, I might be able to accomplish my goal of finishing part two by Christmas. Yes, it's a pathetic goal, but you gotta think long-range. So. How is everyone? Enjoying the summer, I hope. Feel free to tell me anything about your life in your review, if you want, even if it has absolutely nothing to do with the fic; I love to hear about how you're all doing…god knows I tell you enough stuff about myself in these author's notes. Such as my new job, for example. It's a hell of a lot of work, and I have to work weekend shifts, but it's also kinda fun and a really good experience. And this has nothing to do with what I just said, but look! My review counter is getting close to a hundred! A big huge thank you to everyone who's reviewed and made that possible—if you guys wanna keep reviewing and bump me into the triple digits, I'll be forever grateful.

Disclaimers: I don't own the Tolkein universe or associated characters. _Tolkein_ does. Imagine that.

Chapter 18: Battle at Helm's Deep . . .

"Is it the Elves of Mirkwood come to honour their allegiance?" Legolas asked hopefully, running out of the castle to get a good look at the elven troops marching into Helm's Deep. He pouted when he saw that they were actually the Elves of Rivendell, headed by Haldir.

Elrond sent elves to help out, and the King of Mirkwood didn't? Ha! Looks like Aragorn's adopted daddy loves him more than your real daddy loves you, Legolas.

"Ring, that was a low blow," Aragorn chided with a frown, but even he couldn't keep frowning for long. He was thrilled, and it was obvious. Elrond had sent some very, very, veeeeeeeeeery badly needed reinforcements.

Both Aragorn and Theoden stepped forward to greet Haldir. After exchanging the obligatory pleasantries, they got everybody organized and into their battle positions. Everyone stood in the dark, with their bows and/or swords at ready. The night got darker and darker, and tension descended like a cold knot. No one made a sound. There wasn't even a single cricket chirp, because all the crickets had run away and hidden themselves from the battle, as all beings with any intelligence would have done. Only people like Aragorn, Gimli, and the fucking Elves were dumb enough to stay. The promise of violence weighed heavily in the air. Even the sound of the soldiers breathing was ominous: at any moment, that breathing could stop. Danger was afoot, and fear—

"Ring? The running commentary is really not helping the situation," Aragorn told me. "At all."

What? I'm nervous. I'm babbling.

"Ring, you are not in any actual danger; you're not even physically here. You do know that, do you not?" Legolas politely inquired.

Oh, well sure. I mean, I know I'm not going to die in this battle, but I'm still a little freaked, you know? Because who knows what might happen. Any one of you might die, and there's the whole "Fate of Middle Earth hangs in the balance" issue, too. I mean, this is a pretty pivotal battle, and I just feel a little nervous. Yeah.

"Are you saying that you are concerned for our safety?"

Yeah. Well, no, maybe not _concerned_, but definitely somewhat nervous. Fairly nervous.

"I never thought you cared!" Legolas said, looking way too delighted. He was probably still stinging from the fact that his daddy didn't send him help like Elrond did, so he was glad to find out that someone cared. Um…not that I cared. Much.

Anyway. So, like I said, things are looking really grim here. Especially since you can see the Uruk-Hai troops in the distance now. Here they come, whole fucking thousands of them, marching closer and closer to Helm's Deep. Aragorn ran around for some last-minute rousing of the men. He would have made a pretty decent coach, if the way he's yelling is any indication.

When he got around to the Elves and where Legolas and Gimli were standing, Gimli turned to him and said, "Whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night."

Legolas, offended by the implication that Aragorn might not last the night, shot the dwarf a look that clearly said "He needs no luck, for he is **Aragorn**, and if I didn't have to save my energy for the fight, I would beat you black and blue for saying such putrid nonsense." Articulate guy, that Legolas.

Oh, and of course, the weather has to join in with a running commentary, too. It's not enough that my disembodied voice keeps on reminding the soldiers how grim and ominous everything is; it also has to start thunder-storming. These guys are so psychologically destroyed now, it's tragic yet hilarious.

The Uruks, armed with spears and hastily-made swords, eventually get to the front gates. They line up in formation. About half of Theoden's men are simultaneously wetting their pants as we speak.

A Uruk leader bellowed some sort of signal for them to begin…banging their spears on the ground? What are they trying to do, create a sound wave loud enough to level Helm's Deep?

Aragorn, of course, logically responds to their sonic wave strategy by drawing his sword. That's a signal for everyone else to notch their arrows and draw their swords.

The first arrow is loosed, and the battle is **on**, baby! Alright, here we go, bitches!

The Uruk-Hai swarmed forward like a carpet.

"So it begins," Theoden said solemnly. Like, no shit, Your Majesty—what tipped you off?

Aragorn yelled for a volley in Elvish, and arrows flew down as thick as the rain. Holy, are _all_ elves crack shots? Aragorn grinned and yelled for them to reload.

Theoden yelled for a volley in English, and considerably less well-aimed arrows flew down as thick as rain.

About five seconds later, it became "Fire at will"…so much for the volleys. Dozens of Uruk were going down, but dozens out of the thousands? It wasn't making a whole lot of difference. The swarm kept coming steadily.

Black blood spilled from black hearts in the black, black night, soaking the black earth with its blackness.

"That's very poetic," Legolas complimented, not slowing in his steady onslaught of arrows.

Thank you.

Eventually, the Uruk-Hai got to the fortress itself, and the real fighting got under way. They brought out the ladders, big honking ladders that enabled them to climb over the walls and into Helm's Deep.

Hey, Theoden, what was that you said about this place being impenetrable? I guess it never occurred to you that they could climb over, instead of trying to blast through.

"Ring," Aragorn admonished me with a warning tone. "The King has enough on his hands without you troubling him."

Yeah, I'm sure he can bring plenty of trouble onto his incompetent self without my help.

Aragorn would have continued chastising me, but the first of the Uruks were hopping off the ladders, and he was way too busy to do anything but the hacking and slashing that he so loved. Gimli finally got to do something, as his short little arms prevented him from taking part in the shooting of arrows, and he was pretty enthusiastic, after being denied the pleasure for so long. Legolas, of course, was a killing _machine_. He must've been a little hellion as a child. No wonder his dad doesn't love him that much.

The Uruks were taking pretty heavy casualties, but our side was getting the hell beat out of it, too. Occasionally, you could hear the girlish scream of an Elf mortally wounded.

It was getting harder and harder to make things out through the rain. It was only when the lightening flashed that you could really see how bad things were. Carnage stretched out for miles. It was brutal. Well, Aragorn probably found it beautiful or soothing or whatever, but to me it was brutal.

"RING! RIIIING!"

Somewhere, two annoying voice called to me. Incessantly.

Merry? Pippin? What the hell do you want?

"Come quick, Ring!"

Can't it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of something really fucking intense here.

"It cannot wait! You must come! The Ents have made their decision!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC

A/N: In other happy news, same-sex marriage has been officially legalized in Canada as of today. The Queen's representative has given royal assent to the bill, finalizing its legislation. I realize a lot of you don't really care, but it's a pretty big deal to me, so please, join me in celebrating.


	19. Toggling Between HD and Entmoot

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Not only did you push me way past a hundred, you also put a huge grin on my face and gave me the drive to keep writing passably decent chapters. It's because of readers like you that I don't start slacking off or giving up. Just so everyone knows, I'll be off camping next week from Monday to Thursday—if anyone e-mails me and I don't reply, that's why. We're going to Jasper, and we're taking my dog with us; you wouldn't believe how much fun that is. I'm so excited. And last but not least, I'd like to give shout-out and a warm welcome to Middle Earthian: thank you for your comments!

Disclaimers: It would actually be kind of cool if I did get sued by the Tolkein estates, because that would mean they've read this fic and, y'know, heard of me and stuff.

Chapter 19: Toggling Between Entmoot and Helm's Deep . . .

Okay, okay, I'm here. God, this better be good. The fight was just getting interesting.

Treebeard creaked and groaned his way over to where Merry and Pippin were waiting for the Entmoot to finish up. He drew himself up with an air of importance, and announced, "We have decided…that you are not Orcs."

…

_That's_ what you dragged me away from a pivotal battle for?

Merry and Pippin, their normally perplexed expressions multiplied tenfold from actual perplexity instead of mere stupidity, looked at Treebeard and exclaimed, "That's it? What about the War, and Saruman? What about helping our friends? Haven't you talked about that?"

"It takes a long time to say something in the Ancient Entish," Treebeard said defensively, "And we never say anything unless it is worth taking a long time to say."

I wasn't sure if Treebeard was capable of it, but it sounded like an oblique and insulting reference to Merry and Pippin's endless babbling. Whether he meant it or not, I snorted and said, You guys should try that out sometime, okay? In the meantime, I'm gonna go back to Helm's Deep. See ya.

I went back, and the first thing I saw was Theoden saying "Is this all you've got, Saruman?" And immediately following that, the Uruk-Hai used some sort of suicide-bomber technique and blew an entire chunk out of the impenetrable fortress wall.

Hey, Theoden? First of all, Saruman's not like me, so addressing him to the general air around you won't allow you to communicate with him. Second of all, you really need to stop goading the bad luck. Irony is making your its _bitch_ right now.

Before Theoden could reply, a loud boom shook the very sturdy and impenetrable foundations of Helm's Deep.

"TO THE GATE!" Theoden roared, "THEY'RE RAMMING THE GATE!"

The impenetrable gate, I reminded him.

Theoden made a snarling noise of pure annoyance/fury/hate. A few Uruk fell back at the sound.

Hey, if you can harness all of that and channel it into your fighting, we may have a chance yet!

With that, I left him to go check on Aragorn.

Whoa, watch out! To your left there, Strider!

He whirled and took out the Uruk that was trying to sneak up on him. "Thank you, Ring."

No problem. Whoops, there, to your left again. And another one on your right. Quick, duck! Okay, now left. No, don't leave your right open! Okay, quickly finish that one off and back up. There's one with a dagger trying to get in close, and another one running at you with a spear, and about five thousand over there all waiting to get a piece of you.

"Somehow, your assistance has ceased to be quite so helpful," Aragorn grunted, fending off yet another crazy Orc-mutant. An arrow whizzed over his shoulder and downed a would-be attacker before Aragorn even saw the oncoming attack. It was Legolas.

Yeah, well, my assistance is obviously unneeded, now that your darling Elf bunny-wunny has found his way through the war-torn battlefields to you.

"Hello, Ring," Legolas greeted me. "Where were you just now?"

With the Ents.

"The Ents! The ancient Tree-herders? Whatever for?" he inquired with a puzzled frown on his perfect ivory brow, all the while shooting arrows into Uruk heads.

As you may or may not know, Merry and Pippin met up with an Ent. We got that Ent to call all his Ent buddies together, and now we're trying to convince them to join the war effort. Because they're big and strong and scary, and they can probably kill like fifty Uruks in one swat, so they'd make excellent allies.

"That is a wonderful idea, Ring!" Legolas said with a pleasant smile. And then he sidestepped a rushing Uruk and buried a knife into its brain.

Well, I'm glad someone around here appreciates my efforts.

"We all appreciate your efforts," Legolas said, "Right, Aragorn?"

"Right," Aragorn said, with just the tiniest hint of an eye roll.

I chose to let it slide.

Hey, in all seriousness, I wanna ask you something. Tell me the truth. How long do you think Helm's Deep is gonna last.

"It is bad luck to speak of such things during battle," Aragorn said.

You don't need luck because you're Aragorn, remember? C'mon, just tell me.

Aragorn polished off another Uruk, and sighed. "Well, at the current rate—"

"RING! COME QUICK!"

Who was that?

"Who was what?" Aragorn asked.

Oh hell no, was that the hobbits again? Christ, I'll just ignore them. Do continue, Aragorn. You were saying?

"Are you sure you shouldn't check on them?"

Trust me, I'm sure. They—

"RING! COME ON! WHAT'S KEEPING YOU?"

Fuck, they're annoying.

"RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!"

Alright, alright, I'm coming! Aragorn? Hold that thought, okay? We are going to continue this conversation when I come back.

I transported my mind's eye to the clearing where the Entmoot was taking place.

Okay, what the fuck do you want this time?

"They've come to a decision!" Merry said.

What, like last time?

"No, this is about the war!"

Treebeard ambled over and said, "We the Ents, as one, have decided not to take part in the war."

…

You guys have really gotta stop dragging me out for stuff like this.

"How could you decide that?" Merry asked indignantly, ignoring me. "It's a world-wide war, and aren't you a part of the world? Don't you have an obligation to fight for it?"

I took quick stock of the situation. Merry and Pippin could probably go on all day about the beauty of the world and fighting to defend it. They'd be fine.

Look, guys, I've gotta get back, okay? You stay here and work on the Ents. Try to convince them. When I think of something, I'll get back to you. Stall them for as long as you can.

I whipped back to Helm's Deep, where the fighting continued.

In the twenty minutes that I had been gone, the Uruks had managed to kill the Elf-leader Haldir, raise five more ladders to scale the ramparts, crowd the causeway, and smash through the (impenetrable) front gate.

Wow, our side is getting the shit beat out of it.

I quickly went to the front gate, where Theoden was trying to mend the gaping hole that was allowing bloodthirsty warriors to pour in. The work was slow and interrupted by long bouts of fighting.

Guess you shouldn't have sent all your carpenters off to die, huh?

"Do you ever have anything pleasant to say?"

Not to you, your Royal Highness. Where's Aragorn?

"Out on the causeway, with Gimli," Theoden said distractedly. "If you're going to them, please tell them that I'm ordering retreat. We have no choice but to fall back into the Keep."

God, I hope it's not an impenetrable keep.

"The Gate will not last for long! Just go tell them, alright?"

Okay, okay! Sheesh. I'm going.

I swung out to the causeway, where Aragorn and Gimli were pathetically trying to hold their own against the dozens of Uruk-Hai piling onto them.

Guys? Theoden says to tell you we're falling back.

Aragorn started to say something, but he was completely swamped by a fresh attack before anything came out.

Okay, I see that you're not going to be able to fall back here. I'll get help.

I looked for Legolas. It didn't take very long to spot him, seeing as he was the only one with clean, shiny hair in an ocean of dirty and bloody heads.

Legolas! Theoden is calling a retreat into the Keep. Tell all the Elves, and then go rescue Aragorn and Gimli.

Hearing Legolas quickly leapt into action. He shouted for retreat in Elvish, and then grabbed a rope and single-handedly hauled Aragorn and Gimli out of the fray. Everyone made for the interior of the hold.

"Ring?" It was Aragorn, looking spectacularly rugged with blood and gore and mud sweat covering every inch of him. "I've thought about your question," he said gravely. "I predict we shall last for one more night and no more."

Wow. That's pretty grim—

"RIIIING!"

Fuck! What? What the hell do you want?

"COME HEEEEEERRRRRRRE!"

Look, I'm in the middle of something, so—

"THIS CAN'T WAIT! COME QUICK!"

I hurled my tired psyche over the rolling landscape once more.

Okay, what the fuck is it this time? Believe it or not, all of this mental teleportation takes actual energy. You can't just expect me to go around the entire fucking planet endlessly. It's three o'clock in the morning, I haven't had any sleep for days, this is my third trip here in the past five hours, and I am really fucking tired. This had better be worth it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC


	20. Whoo, Go Ents!

A/N: Hey all! I had a great time in Jasper; it's a beautiful place, and if you ever get the chance you should definitely visit Jasper, Alberta, Canada. I'm not just saying that to drum up our tourism industry. So, anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. To answer Chaosti's question, no, Legolas is not high on drugs. Yes, kiddies, that is Legolas when he's sober—scary, I know. The way I write him makes it seem like he has multiple personality disorder, and there are three very good reasons for that: 1, his character switches from dumb to smart and from sweet to deadly all the time…I'm just exaggerating the switches. 2, it amuses me, and 3, I know it amuses you too. One last thing: can you believe summer is almost over? For those of you who don't go to school, that's probably not a huge deal, but for the rest of us, it's back to school time. Back to cramming for exams, back to incompetent teachers, back to getting no sleep, back to having to see the same annoying and/or stupid kids for seven hours straight every single frickin' day. Oh, joy.

Disclaimers: I don't own Lord of the Rings. Yet. But someday, ooooh, someday…(goes back to plotting world domination)

Chapter 20: Whoo, Go Ents! . . .

Okay, hobbits, I'm here now. What the hell is it this time? And it had better be really fucking substantial.

"We thought you might want to know that Treebeard's taking us back to the Shire," Merry said meekly. "But if you're busy, maybe it can wait."

Oh, what the hell, I'm here now. Might as well take care of this mess. Okay, listen, I got a plan, but it's not going to work if Treebeard thinks I had anything to do with it.

I dropped my voice to a whisper. What I'm going to do, I told the hobbits quietly, is pretend to go away, and then make it so that only you two can hear my voice. You have to just listen to me, and act like I'm not here, okay?

I pitched my voice louder again, and said, Well, I guess that's all. I have to go back to Helm's Deep now. Bye, Treebeard, bye hobbits!

"Wait, you can't go, Ring!" Pippin said. "What about our secret plan!"

Sometimes, I wished my teleportation abilities included a physical manifestation, just so I could smack someone upside the head.

I'm still here, you nitwit! But Treebeard doesn't know that, so act like I'm gone, okay?

"Okay!" the hobbits both sang.

No, you dumbasses!

"Who are you talking too?" Treebeard grumbled.

"Um, no one. Ourselves. Each other," Merry stammered smoothly.

Great, guys. Real slick. Okay, I'm gonna tell you the plan quickly, before this gets any worse, okay? Listen carefully. You have to convince Treebeard to go South. Force him to go right past Isengard. If we can't convince him, then we've got to use emotional trickery. Once he sees all the damage Saruman has done to the forest, he'll _want_ to jump in and fight—he's a shepherd of the forest, or whatever. It's his duty to avenge his…sheep.

"Are you sure this will work?" Merry whispered. "I really don't want to get caught by Saruman."

It'll work.

"Are you sure?"

Hey, come on, who's the smart one here? The hard part is convincing Treebeard to turn towards Isengard.

"I can handle that," Pippin said. He bent down lower, closer to Treebeard's face, and said, "You know what? I think we should head South."

"South?" Treebeard rumbled. "That's not the way to the Shire."

"No, but I think it's a much safer bet. Saruman will be on the look out for us, and he'll be watching all roads to the Shire. What we need to do is pick a road that he's not watching. He definitely won't be watching the roads to Isengard, because he's not expecting us to go that way, because who would go straight to the enemy, only a stupid person would do that, except a smart person would do it because the enemy wouldn't think that the smart person would do it. He won't be expecting us, and we'll be able to slip right past him, and then we'll be able to go the long way around to the Shire. It's much safer, and besides, South is the coolest direction out of the four directions. Now let's see, what are the four directions again? Up, down, left, right. But those aren't the directions we're talking about. Now, what are those called again? Ah yes. North, south, east…and…and west! Oh yes, who can forget west? West is a lot of fun, because it begins with the letter 'w', and it's also where the sun sets. But let's not talk about west. Let's talk about south, and why we should turn that way. South is fun too, because it starts with an 's', and the letter 's' looks like a snake. I really think we should head south. South is definitely our best chance of getting to the Shire unscathed, so what do you say, old pal, old buddy? How about we turn around and go south, straight past Isengard?"

Treebeard turned about-face and headed south. Immediately. Just to get Pippin to shut the hell up.

It took them all morning and well into the afternoon before they got anywhere near Isengard. I stayed with them, after quickly checking in on both Helm's Deep and my current situation with Frodo and Faramir. It was the least depressing out of the three. Helm's Deep was just a bunch of people locked up and waiting to die, and Faramir was taking us through the dampest, grayest, bleakest, and most suicide-inducing countryside I have ever seen in my life.

So anyway, I stuck with Treebeard and the hobbits. When they finally got to Isengard, I could tell that my plan had worked, if the horrified expression on Treedbeard's face was any indication.

Stretched out before him lay Saruman's destruction. The forests he'd clear-cut for the sake of progress were nothing but gnarled stumps. Treebeard stared at the stark, barren land that used to be a forest. More specifically, it used to be a forest he was responsible for—someone was going to pay for this.

"Oh, oh, the horror!" Treebeard mourned, walking around slowly, surveying the damage. "I've known most of these trees since they were little saplings!" He bent down to touch a sad, burnt stump. "They had voices of their own!"

How high would you have to be to—Come on, big guy. I know it's sad, but you have to get the hobbits to the Shire, remember? You decided you didn't want to be involved in the War, remember?

Treebeard ignored me. "There is no curse in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of Men for this treachery," he moaned.

Actually, I bet Legolas knows a few. In all three tongues.

Treebeard straightened up with an air of resolve. "Hobbits, you are not going back to the Shire just yet. You are going to war."

He made some sort of loud battle call, and Ents began to show up from everywhere. Giant, hulking, walking trees, with minds full of vengeance for their tree brothers. Ah, there's nothing like the satisfaction of a well-laid plan playing out perfectly before your eyes.

Before the hour was out, there were at least fifty Ents gathered. Those things move really slowly most of the time, but when they hustle, they can sure move. They formed a rough battalion and stormed Isengard.

I don't even know how to begin to describe the destruction that went on. Picture woolly mammoths. Picture a train wreck. Picture a large and unstoppable stampede. Picture steamrollers out of control. Picture hurricanes, tornadoes, typhoons, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions all happening at once. The Ents stormed into Isengard and began to literally dis-fucking-mantle it, piece by piece.

And man, Orcs are retarded. If I saw giant trees thirsting for my blood stomping in my direction, I would run. But the Orcs stayed and _shot arrows_ at them. It's like shooting rubber bands at a charging elephant, only more ineffective.

The hobbitmuffins stayed in their perches on top of Treebeard, enjoying the mass destruction and chaos in a way only idiotic young hobbits on speed can.

"Ha! Lookit! It's Saruman!" Pippin was pointing up at the tower, where Saruman could be seen clearly pissing his robes.

Merry and Pippin mooned him.

I'm not kidding. By some mutual decision, they hopped up, yanked their pants off, and mooned him.

I thought Saruman was going to burst a few capillaries.

"Break the dam! Release the river!" Treebeard thundered, running uphill to a dam that I hadn't even noticed before.

Oh my god, Saruman's been running operations from the basin of a dammed-off river? Whose bright idea was that?

Strategically, it was the worst possible thing for Saruman and the best possible thing for us. The Ents ripped the dam apart, and water gushed back into the basin. Into Saruman's meticulously built command centre. All over Saruman's meticulously built command centre.

It was all very poetic, very symbolic: the forces of nature triumphing over Evil, the valley being washed clean (literally) so that life could now spring anew. Very nice.

Well guys, that takes care of that. I'm gonna mosey on back to my other affairs, alright?

"Sure, Ring. We'll be fine. Thanks for all your help! We promise we won't bother you again, unless it's really really really super duper important!" Merry and Pippin said in farewell.

Yeah. I'm sure.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC

A/N: This part is my favourite part out of the movies. Did anyone else get a real kick out of watching that Ent that was on fire run and dunk its head into the water? Heh.


	21. Faramir Deceived Us

A/N: First of all, I'm sorry I missed ShaedowCat's birthday! I didn't check my e-mail until I had missed it by a long shot, but happy belated birthday, okay? Everyone, say happy belated birthday to ShaedowCat, who read my Smallville fic and gave me an awesome review. I love you, ShaedowCat! Also, much love everyone one else who reviewed—I'm glad I'm not the only one who likes the head-dunking Ent that much. Yay, we can all love him together! (pauses to think about the inherent wrongness of that exclamation) School has been hell on me, but I promise I'll try to update once every two weeks. I'd like to update weekly, but I'm trying to keep my goals realistic.

Disclaimers: If I owned the LotR universe, I wouldn't be writing this fic—I'd be too busy playing with the Ents all day.

Chapter 21: Faramir Decieved Us . . .

Finally, after an exhausting day of telepathy, I returned my mind back to my own body. Ah, it sure feels good to be home… Except not. Because home was currently somewhere in the vicinity of the dreary Gondorian moors outside of Osgiliath.

And if the moors weren't depressing enough, one only had to look at the city of Osgiliath itself to be plunged headlong into a depthless pit of permanent despair. Even under the best of circumstances, the city would've been kind of drab—it was built almost entirely out of imposing grey stone and had a very sombre look. But under the present circumstances? It was enough to make anyone within a ten mile radius run for some razors and slash their wrists.

The city was under siege.

"Look! Osgiliath burns! Mordor has come!" one of Faramir's Merry Men, who apparently had Legolas's gift of pointing out the obvious, pointed out.

Faramir's face looked almost as grim as the city itself. He assessed the situation. It was pretty much hopeless: there was no way his little ragtag group of men was going to be of any help to the city. The best they could do was probably get in an Orc's way and delay his slaying of the innocent for a few seconds.

"Fear not, my brave men," he started in on his pep talk. "The Ring shall save us."

Wait, wait, wait…_what_? How the hell do you think I'm gonna save you?

"The Ring does not possess the power to save you," Frodo pointed out to Faramir.

Faramir ignored him and signalled his men to get ready to charge into Osgiliath. "This is a time when we have no choice but to fight fire with fire. We shall use Sauron's own Ring of power to defeat him, and liberate Gondor from his oppressive Evil!"

Oh my god oh my god, Faramir, you canNOT be serious. You're dragging us horribly outnumbered and unprepared into a battle we're certain to lose, because you're counting on me to save you?

Frodo and Sam were looking ashen with fear. "Oh great, we're all screwed now," Sam muttered. Faramir caught up Frodo and seated him on his saddle securely, in front of him, so he couldn't run away. A Merry Man picked up Sam and did the same to him.

The signal was given to ride into the city.

Fuck, I exclaimed, as the horse began to gallop towards our certain death. Do something, Frodo!

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked, eyes as big as dinner plates.

I don't know, tell him I don't have any powers, I screamed. The city was getting closer and closer.

Frodo tried to get Faramir's attention, but he didn't even acknowledge him. "Oh, shite, we're gonna diiiiiiieeeeeeeee!" Frodo squealed like a scared little girl.

Dammit, Faramir, I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMART!

We rode into the city, under a rain of arrows and fire.

Faramir's men immediately split up, because apparently their battle plan was to make it easier for the enemy to pick them off one by one. Who knows why—Faramir was obviously insane, and who knows why insane people do anything?

The Orcs definitely had the upper hand. Osgiliath was getting the shit, crap, stuffing, and living daylights beat out of it. Most of the city lay in little smouldering heaps, and anyone who was still alive was trying to hide behind and/or under said heaps.

And what the hell are those? Are those _dragons_? We're being attacked from the air now? Hey, what are those on the dragons? Oh my god, are those the Ringwraiths?

Hey guys! I thought you were all dead!

"Alfonso? Is that you?" Larry the Ringwraith asked. "It is you! What are you doing here? What'd you do, switch sides? Are you on the other team now?"

Well, it's complicated, but you know, I rethought the whole deal and decided I had to do what felt right. These guys treat me way nicer that Sauron ever treated me, and I never liked Saruman, anyway. So, yeah, I guess I did switch sides.

Larry and the other Ringwraiths were very much taken aback. "Well," Larry said rather stiffly, "I guess we're enemies now. And since we're enemies, nothing prevents me from doing _this_!"

He steered his dragon into a sudden swoop, diving straight down toward Frodo and me. He made a menacing grab at us, but before he could lay a hand on us, Sam (bless his creepy stalker heart) appeared from the shadows and tackled Frodo out of the way.

Larry's dragon dove right past, lost control and had to pull back up quickly. It circled in the air a few times before flying off. Meanwhile, Sam, Frodo, and I tumbled to the ground and rolled several times before coming to a stop.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried breathlessly from his position atop Frodo.

Frodo lay on the ground looking up at Sam with just a little teeny tiny bit of apprehension. "Um, Sam? Thank you. Uh. Thank you. You can get off of me now."

Sam scrambled up and blushed.

Faramir rushed over to make sure everyone was okay.

Leave us alone, you psycho. I thought you were on my side. I thought you were the only smart person I'd encountered in the past few months. I thought we could be friends.

"Ring. Al. Please, hear me out. I know that you do not possess any powers, but I had to tell the men something. Their knees were knocking with fear! I had to boost their spirits, or they would never have found the courage to come to Osgiliath's defence."

Oh. Well, okay. So that was just a fib, about the whole using me for power thing.

"Yes."

You should know I'm kind of touchy about the whole using me for power thing. You shouldn't tell lies about it, even if they're white lies. The only reason I'm even involved in this mess is because a bunch of well-intentioned people told some white lies.

"And for that, I am truly sorry."

Fine. Apology accepted. You really had me going there, though. I thought you had gone crazy like your brother and really convinced yourself that I actually possess Sauron's power.

"I shall never bring it up again, if you never insult my brother again."

Never insult Boromir again? Okay, fine. Deal. As much as it pains me, I shall never speak ill of Boromir again, if you promise to never, ever, EVER even _imply_ that I have any sort of evil powers.

Faramir quickly agreed.

You're still a psycho, though. You dragged your men into this knowing full well that I didn't have any powers? So you knew that you had nothing to back you up, no safety net, no anything? And you still dove into this fracas? What are you, on drugs?

"Gondor is my country," he said fiercely, "and no amount of danger could keep me from defending her."

Yeah, I can see why your crew might not necessarily share that attitude, and would therefore require a fair amount of fibbing to motivate them. You're crazy.

Faramir shrugged and rode off to kill some more Orcs.

Just what was it with scruffy human males and their need for brutality? Were they all overcompensating for something?

Frodo snorted at my comment. "If we want to live through this, we must lay low and find a place to hide."

Sam lit up at the thought of huddling in a lone, dark corner all pressed up against Frodo.

This really, really sucks, I said, as we hid behind a half-crumbled wall. To emphasize my point, a dead soldier fell and nearly crushed us.

In fact, I think this is almost as bad as the rocks of Mordor.

"At least Gollum isn't here," Frodo pointed out.

Eww, Gollum. Please, don't mention his name again. I was just starting to forget about him. Where did Faramir stash him, anyway?

"I thought you said you didn't want to talk about him," Frodo pointed out.

I don't, but I'm using this conversation to distract myself from the fact that we're probably going to die in the next few minutes. Sitting around like ducks waiting to be shot is killing my nerves. I didn't think it was possible, but this city might actually be worse off than Helm's Deep.

"Then why don't you go back to Helm's Deep? Go, and rid us of your running commentary. You're beginning to give me a headache." Frodo said with a tired sigh. He leaned against the disintegrating wall and sulked.

Fine, maybe I'll do just that.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC


	22. Victory at Helm's Deep

A/N: School has been like a really tiring, excruciating, patience-eroding hell, but I'm probably not telling you anything you didn't already know. I didn't get a lot of reviews for the last chapter, which makes me sort of sad. I console myself with the thought that a lot of you are probably just as busy as I am, and so you didn't review because you didn't have time and not because you didn't like it. (I also console myself with the expectation that I'm going to get more reviews this time, to make up for the last one…HINT HINT.) I'm in full IB, so I have to write this extended essay. I'm doing mine in history, and if anyone needs to know anything about Irish separatism from 1886 to 1920, I am officially **the** person to ask. …I doubt any of you will take me up on this offer, but keep it in mind, because you never know.

Disclaimers: I'm actually working on the whole owning LotR thing right now, so if anyone wants to lend me a bazillion dollars and a retinue of lawyers, please let me know.

Chapter 22: Victory at Helm's Deep . . .

Meanwhile, back at Helm's Deep, Theoden had successfully led his countrymen deep into the stronghold and barricaded all the exits. So now they're trapped. Forever. Good job, Theoden.

So, how are the women and children holding up?

"As best they can, under these circumstances," Aragorn answered diplomatically. He and Legolas and Gimli were going around trying to raise the spirits of the people, but things were so grim that it would take way more than a pep rally to ever cheer them up again.

And how's Legolas holding up? He hasn't seen a brush or a bar of soap for what, four or five days now? Is he going to be alright, I asked with mock concern.

"It is a siege, Ring. I can cope. My life does not depend on looking perfect every second of the day," Legolas said from the other end of the keep. To emphasize this point, he flipped his luxuriant hair over his shoulder, smoothed it down, and then buffed his nails on his tunic.

Right. You know, I'll never understand how you can put up with Aragorn here. This guy hasn't showered for, what is it, six months now?

"I have too showered," Aragorn protested.

Yeah, showers in Orc blood don't count. In order for it to be considered a shower, it has to actually get you _clean_.

"Perhaps, but the Orc blood attracts Legolas. It acts as a cologne, or an aphrodisiac."

And why exactly are you telling me this?

"I have no idea."

Yeah, that's too much information right there. You really need to get some sleep. Or maybe you need to get some…something else. You guys have gone five whole days without having sex, and I didn't even think it was possible for you to go five hours.

"Ring! There are children present!" Legolas gasped, looking very scandalized.

"Can we talk about something else?" Aragorn asked. "I do not need to be reminded about how long it has been since I've…gotten some. …How about plans for the future? We cannot stay here indefinitely. Supplies shall run out long before the Orcs do."

Yeah…so maybe caving yourself in here isn't such a great idea in the long run. You see why you have no allies, Theoden? Because you're stupid. Stupid and cocky, and no one wants an ally like that.

Aragorn sighed. "Will you please stop baiting him, Ring? You may leave whenever you like, but the rest of us are stuck living with him. Besides, he is a king. He deserves your respect."

He doesn't deserve shit, but I do feel sorry for the rest of you. Being stuck with him? Ugh. Can't imagine. Isn't there anywhere else you could go?

Aragorn brooded. And then he brightened. "Actually, that is a pretty good idea. Is there anywhere else the women and children can go?" he asked Theoden.

"The mountains," Theoden replied after a moment's consideration. "But there is only one way to get there, and it is far too risky."

"We have little choice but to risk it," Aragorn said. "Send word for women and children to make for the mountain pass."

Theoden shook his head. "It is hopeless." He gave a great, bleak, heaving sigh. "Sauron has unleashed so much hate. What can Man do against such reckless hate?" He looked straight at Aragorn, and there was nothing but depthless hollows in his eyes.

Oh great, the guy's gone catatonic. You picked a fantastic time to crack under pressure—you know, right around the time your people _need_ you?

The loud BANG of an Orcish battering-ram hitting the doors of the keep echoed through the hold. Children whimpered in fear while their mothers tried without success to hush them. One started bawling.

BANG! went the battering-ram once more. There was the soft, yet distinct and horrifying sound of hard wood beginning to yield.

Aragorn listened to it with gritted teeth.

BANG!

Aragorn drew his sword. "Ride out with me," he said to Theoden. "We shall meet them."

Oh, not you too! Are you guys claustrophobic or something? Is that why you're going **insane**? You want to ride out and meet all gazillion of them?

"For death and glory," Theoden agreed. His eyes met with Aragorn's, and they shared a manly nod.

Oh great, now they're on the same wavelength.

"For Rohan," Aragorn affirmed. "For your people."

Hey, Legolas? Gimli? Are you guys listening to this? Can't you do something to stop this madness?

"Actually," Gimli said, "I'm starting to get tired of sitting around, waiting to be beaten. I too think we should go out and meet the Uruk. If we're goin' down, we must take them down with us."

I never thought I would say this, but Legolas? You're the last sane person left. Do something.

"Oh, but Ring, you know I could never say no to an opportunity for killing Orcs."

They rounded up a few of the Riders of Rohan who had also gone crazy from cabin fever, and they got their horses ready to ride out.

Guys, you cannot be serious. You're just gonna throw your lives away like this? Who's gonna defend these people when you're all dead? Who's gonna lead Gondor, or Mirkwood, or the dwarves? You have RESPONSIBILITIES—you can't just go get yourselves killed for fun! And what about me? You owe me! Who's gonna help me find a way to not get thrown into Mount Doom, huh? HUH?

They ignored my protests. The doors to the keep finally gave under all that battering, but instead of re-barricading the entrance, they let it fall open all the way.

Oh my god, look how many of them there are. They look like a carpet of ants.

The handful of crazy men let out loud war cries and rode out to meet them. They rode through the stone gangway, swords flashing, picking off Uruk-hais left and right. By sheer chance, no one was injured. Yet.

Look, you're lucky to still be alive. Why don't you quit while you're ahead and just ride on back where you came from?

Legolas paused in his methodical slaughter. "Aww, the Ring is worried for our safety," he cooed.

Okay, you know what? Fuck you. Go ahead—die. Whatever.

"Ring," Aragorn grunted while pulling his sword out of the gnarled, broken body of what used to be a Uruk, "I know you think me insane—"

Because you are.

"—_however_, even I would not needlessly risk the lives of my friends and comrades for a completely hopeless battle."

Okay, then what do you call this, if not 'completely hopeless'? I cast my RingVision over the thousands upon thousands of Uruk-Hai and Orcs, armed from head to foot, and—hey, what's that glow?

Aragorn grinned. "That, my dear sceptic, is Gandalf. More precisely, it is Gandalf with 2000 much-needed Riders of Rohan."

I looked. So it was. He really did manage to rustle up 1950 more Riders than I remembered seeing.

The new warriors joined in the fray. They were at a decided advantage, what with the fact that they were fresh while the Uruks had been fighting for five days straight. Plus, they had me, providing them with helpful insider information, such as the weak spots in Orc armour, etc.

Pretty soon, the tide of the battle began to turn. The Uruks and Orcs were going down. The ones who were still alive fled, leaving Helm's Deep in bloody rubble, but leaving Helm's Deep nonetheless.

"VICTORY!" The men of Rohan roared in delight.

Theoden clasped Eomer's hand and apologized for being an ass.

So, I said conversationally to Aragorn, Eomer is apparently a way better person than I am—I would've personally told the king to go fuck himself if he had treated me like that, and then came crawling to beg for my help later.

"You have told the king to go fuck himself. Many a time," Aragorn pointed out.

Yeah, well, like I said. I'm not above that. Hey, you know, you put a lot of trust in Gandalf back there, leading everyone into battle on the assumption he'll keep his word. He doesn't always keep his word…case in point, ME. He hasn't kept his word on matters concerning ME NOT DYING.

"In his defence, he has been rather busy," Aragorn pointed out mildly.

Yeah, like the rest of us aren't busy; like what he does is so much more important than what we do; like he's the only one that counts.

Aragorn carefully cleaned the gunk off his sword while switching the subject. "How have you been doing, anyway? How is everyone over on your front of the war?"

Not. Good. I'm saddled up with Frodo, who's slowly going crazy, Sam, whose hands migrate closer and closer to Frodo's bathing suit area with each passing day, and Gollum, who's ugly. Plus, I've made a deal with Faramir, and now I can't make fun of Boromir anymore, and that was one of my only forms of entertainment. No one has come up with a plan to save me yet, so we're at a stalemate there—they all agree they should save me, but no one wants to go the extra mile and actually save me.

"At least you're all still alive," Aragorn said, looking on the bright side of things.

Yeah, well, if something isn't done soon, maybe you won't have to think of a plan to save me after all. Maybe I'll just KILL MYSELF.

"What have we been talking about?" Legolas inquired, prancing over after having cleaned all the blood out from under his fingernails.

"The Ring was just having a minor freak-out, my darling snookum wookums," Aragorn said, putting his arm around Legolas's waist. "I think he just needed to get it out of his system."

I think I just need someone to get his head out of his ass and NOT KILL ME. I think I just need to not be in mortal fear of my life every twenty minutes. I think Sam just needs to stop insinuating that I'm evil, when everyone plainly knows I'm not. I think I just need people to stop targeting me. I think I just need—oh my god, I think you guys need to stop having clothed sex right here in front of everyone. Jesus! I think I need therapy.

Aragorn ripped his face away from Legolas's with some amount of force. "Sorry," he panted. "Legolas and I are going to find a quiet corner for our traditional post-battle celebrations."

And because I really didn't want to know, there was little else for me to do but go back to my own situation.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC

ps- Hey, I just noticed that I'm really, really close to the end of Part II! I think this might end in…oh, say two more chapters. Wow. And I never thought I would make it this far.


	23. In Which People Realize Things

A/N: Hey guys. Yeah…there are only so many excuses I can make for being such a bad updater. I can't believe it's been nearly two months since I've updated. I'm sorry, everyone. Can you forgive me? School's been insane like you wouldn't believe, and I haven't had time to get five hours of sleep every night, much less type up a chapter. But here I am now, typing up the LAST CHAPTER. That's right, guys…it's that time again! THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF PART II. The first chapter of the next part, Part III, will be posted on December 27. I repeat: DECEMBER 27. I've got a bunch of good surprises in store for the next part, so I don't wanna lose anyone in the transition. Please, please, pleeeeease write it down on your calendar, enter it into your palm pilot, tattoo it onto your forehead, whatever it takes to remember to read the new part. Stay with me. Stay with Al.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned LotR and all associated rights and licenses. However, I also wish my math mark on my report card was better, and since neither of those are gonna happen, I'll just deal with it.

Chapter 23: In Which People Realize Things (But Al is Still Screwed) . . .

As I returned to Osgiliath, I did an aerial pan of the city. Poor city. Faramir and his men had more or less driven off the Orc threat, but the place was left in absolute ruins. It was very, very grim. Like, even grimmer than it was before.

Frodo sat leaning against the remains of a pillar, despondently throwing pieces of rubble and watching them bounce away.

Hey, Frodo. So, everyone else is okay. Gandalf brought help, and Helm's Deep is okay now. Aragorn and Legolas send their love.

"That's wonderful news," Frodo said without any of the joy that's customary in uttering a sentence like that. He sighed and flicked another piece of rubble away. It leisurely bounced its way off of some cracked stone steps and rolled a short way before settling against the elbow of a dead Orc.

What's wrong now, O Sulky One?

"Oh, nothing. It's just…it seems like it's been centuries since I've seen the Shire. I know I complain about how annoying you are and how much danger we're in, but those things aren't the things that make me sad. I miss my home and my family and my friends. I miss waking up in my bed and looking out of my window to see my flowers. I miss the sunshine. The sun never quite shines over here the way it does in the Shire. Hobbits weren't meant to be so far from home, you know. Hobbits are made for staying in their little Hobbit villages, maybe an occasional short trip to the next village to visit their friends. This does _not_ constitute a short trip to be made on occasions. This is a quest. Hobbits weren't made for quests. I just want to go home." Frodo's lower lip whibbled. He blinked away a few tears.

God, Frodo, you're such a _whiner_. But you look so small and sad right now, sitting in the middle of all of this devastation, trying not to cry. You're so little and cute that I'm actually going to tell you something sincere, instead of just ripping into you with a scathing insult.

Frodo put down the rubble he was fiddling with and listened.

Okay, here's the thing. I'm thousands of years old and I've never really had a permanent home, so it's easy for me to forget that you're really young and this is the longest and farthest you've ever been away from your little village. I'm starting to realize that this is pretty rough on you. But you have to understand where I'm coming from, too. Do you have any idea how rough it is for me, to spend every waking moment defending my innocence to people _who already know I'm innocent_? I mean, I thought we were friends! Maybe I'm just speaking for myself here, but over the past few months, I've gotten pretty attached to some of you. Beneath this undeniably gorgeous exterior, I have feelings too, you know. I feel pretty hurt every time you guys talk about having to kill me. I feel pretty hurt whenver fucktard over there (and I gestured to the eavesdropping Sam, who sheepishly looked away. Good. Let the fucker feel shame.) implies that I want to kill you in your sleep. Because I _don't_, Frodo, and I don't know why you won't believe me. Haven't I done enough to prove my loyalty?

Frodo was really crying now, sobbing and making cute little snuffling noises. Sam quickly came over to console him. Frodo discreetly moved away from Sam's wandering hands.

"Oh, Ring, we should have talked to each other sooner! I think we really do understand each other now."

"I think I understand too," Sam said.

_What_? I'm sorry, but I do believe I misheard you. What did you say just now?

"I think I understand you, Ring," Sam said, completely out of character.

Now, Samwise, think very hard about what you're saying. Maybe you're confused. Are you using the word "understand" incorrectly? Are you sure you don't mean "hate"? Or maybe "am unfairly bigoted against"? Because those would take the place of "understand" nicely, and make much more sense, coming from your mouth.

"I'm sure, Ring. I really have been unfair to you these past weeks. But you must understand, I was only being vigilant to protect Mr. Frodo. But after hearing your speech, I'm changing my opinion of you."

_Really_? Wait, are you just saying this so I'll stop making fun of you?

"No, I don't expect you'll ever stop doing that," Sam sad good-humouredly. "But I would like to call a truce."

Okay, Sam, I don't know what you're on or where you got the stuff, but never stop taking it, because it's doing you a world of good. Sure. We have a truce.

Frodo smiled at Sam. Everything was great—better than it had been for months. And then, of course, Faramir had to come over and ruin it.

"Master Baggins," he began, the look on his face as grim as his city.

Uh oh.

"I'm afraid we must ask you to leave Osgiliath and continue on your way to Mordor."

Excuse me? WHAT?

"Looking around the broken remains of what used to be a vibrant city, I am now realizing that I cannot simply decide to keep the Ring alive. There are greater forces at work, and many of these forces truly believe in the Evil that the Ring symbolises. In order to defeat Sauron, we must at least appear to destroy the Ring."

Wait, wait, hold up. Faramir, come on. You can't be serious. There's got to be some other way to defeat Sauron. I mean, yeah, the guy's pretty powerful, but he's just a flaming eyeball right now. You could just go up to him and douse him.

"If we are to get at Sauron, we must first defeat the armies he and Saruman have created. And in order to do that, we must first rouse the nations into believing that victory is possible. And in order to do that…we must indulge in their sense of symbolism."

Frodo? Sam? Guys, can you just leave me with Faramir for a little? We need to speak in private.

Frodo handed me over to Faramir reluctantly.

"Al—"

Don't even start, guy. I thought we were pals.

"We are!" Faramir protested.

You sure are a crappy pal.

"Look, Al, I have been stuck out in the middle of these hinterlands with no one but uncultured renegade soldiers, who will not speak their minds with me because I am their leader. You are the first intelligent being to have struck conversation with me, and I value your friendship highly."

Wow, you have a really strange way of showing it.

"Al, I promise you, all of this is for the sake of appearances. Continuing your quest to Mordor will not only rouse the people, but will also dampen the spirits of Sauron's forces. The Free Peoples are not the only superstitious ones—Sauron's troops also believe in your power, and it will greatly test their mettle to think that you are to be imminently destroyed."

Yeah, but it also kinda tests _my_ mettle to think that I'm to be imminently destroyed.

"But you shall not be! I give you my word that I shall think of a plan long before you are in any actual danger."

I've heard this all before, Faramir. Months ago, back in the Shire, Gandalf promised me the exact same thing, and look where I am now. Why the hell should I believe you?

"I do not give my word lightly. Besides, I am much more resourceful than _Gandalf_. All this time, you have been at the mercy of the intellects of old men and hobbit-children. Do not fear, Al. With your wits and mine combined, we shall soon have you safe and sound."

I have to admit that Faramir's reasoning somewhat comforted me. Against my better judgement, I agreed.

Oh, what the hell. I've gone along with it for this long; I guess I can afford to go along with it for a little while longer. You guys are so mean. Just because you're big and have opposable thumbs, you think you can bully me around however you please. Do you really promise to come up with a plan?

"I give you my most solemn of promises."

We called Frodo back over, and he slipped me onto his chain again. "Are we off to Mordor once more?" he asked, sounding very, very tired.

"I'm sorry, young Master Baggins, but we do have to trouble you to commence your trek right away," Faramir replied. "But Al will make sure that we keep in constant contact. You shall not be alone on your journey." He paused to cock his head to the side. "Could we also trouble you to take that curious Gollum creature with you?"

I turned to where he was looking. Sure enough, there was Gollum, skulking in the shadows where he had been hiding for a while.

NO! THAT WAS NOT PART OF THE DEAL! Are you familiar with the term 'a fate worse than death'? Yeah. I'll play your sick little charade, but I am not going to spend any more nights listening to Gollum's perverted heavy breathing.

"Oh, come one, Ring. You're not the only one who deserves redemption," Frodo said. "We'll take Gollum with us."

No! Frodo, bless your soft little heart, but some things just can't be rehabilitated. Sam, come on, you know this is a dumb idea."

"One of the few things we can agree on," Sam agreed. "Mr. Frodo, that thing can't be trusted! It's not safe to have him around us, slinking about in the night, ready to kill us the first chance he gets!"

Frodo frowned. "Sam, you said the same things about the Ring! And look, now you've called a truce. If you would only give Smeagol a chance…"

No way, kid. Not Gollum. No chances.

"You are such a hypocrite, Ring. If I were as hard-hearted and stubborn as you, you would've been flung into the fires of Mount Doom already."

Hey, don't compare my situation with Gollum, okay? They're completely different things. First of all, no one's threatening his _life_—we just don't want him on the road with us. Secondly, I've known him for years, back in the day, so I know what he's like, okay? He's not a diamond in the rough. There is absolutely nothing good under that slimy exterior. He will find some way to sell us out, and he wouldn't hesitate to betray us the second he's found a way. Take my word for it.

"Well, we cannot very well leave him all alone out in the middle of nowhere! Faramir's troops are much too busy to take him in. And besides, if he really is planning on some sort of treachery, would it not be better to keep him with us, where we can watch him? It is much more dangerous to let him run loose when he already knows so much about us."

Which was how we got saddled with Gollum once more.

The four of us set out towards Mordor, walking in more or less companionable silence. And then, of course, Sam just had to start singing.

Would you please just shut the fuck up? I'm trying to enjoy my horror and depression in peace and silence here.

Sam stuck his tongue out at me.

God, that's nasty. Keep that thing in your mouth.

Frodo let my chain hang out of his shirt, so that I could see the "scenery". Rocks, rocks, and more rocks, on a backdrop of sad grey rocks and gnarled, dead trees. Lovely. I was stranded in the middle of nowhere with Frodo, Fucktard, and (shudder) _Gollum_, and we were all taking a leisurely stroll away from decent company and towards the place where I was most likely going to be killed.

Don't you guys feel a strong sense of déjà vu? Isn't this just like that time when we broke off from the rest of the group and went across that river in that little canoe?

"Yeah, except this time you and Sam have called a truce. I'm expecting you guys to fight a lot less. You can't make fun of Sam so much anymore, Ring…however are you going to live?" Frodo teased.

Sam started singing again, and Frodo joined in, whistling along. Gollum scrambled ahead, muttering rabidly to himself.

However am I going to live indeed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . END of Part II

Is Sam's change of heart sincere, or does he have ulterior motives? Will Faramir come through for Al? Will Arwen get in the way of Legolas and Aragorn's love? Will Merry and Pippin ever shut up? And what will happen to Al, anyway? Find out all of this, and more, in "Alfonso the Ring: Part III", out December 27, 2005.

ps- And review! This is your last chance to review a new chapter of Part II!

pps- Thank you, dear reader, for the wild ride. Part II wouldn't have been the same without you. See you in December!


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